


Aquarius

by Chiauve



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, MerMay, mer-au, slow-ish build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19089532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiauve/pseuds/Chiauve
Summary: The coastal town of Raccoon City has some local legends about sea monsters that can take human form. No one takes them seriously. But new STARS recruit Chris Redfield is about to learn that sometimes the truth is bigger, and more dangerous, than the legend.





	1. Capitalizing on a Legend

**Author's Note:**

> I never had any intent to write one of these but here it is. Let's find out where it goes. It was supposed to be a bit 'Little Mermaid' but kinda went 'Splash' instead.

The night was warm and yet Chief Irons shivered as he continued to sweat, dragging the body out of the trunk of a borrowed police car and toward the water. It was quiet and the sea calm and he didn’t like that, every noise amplified.

This wasn’t his fault. The idiot PI shouldn’t have stuck his nose into his business, what choice did Irons have but to kill him? He’d gotten too close, figuratively and literally as Irons had caught him snooping around the tunnels under the RPD.

The waves lapped gently against the shore, a soft, soothing sound akin to the sea itself breathing in and out, in and out.

Irons could only hope the currents were just as calm, give the fish time to eat most of the bastard before his remains inevitably came floating back in…

“I don’t think that’s the most efficient form of body disposal.”

Irons whirled around, his hand whipping out his pistol, and looked for the owner of the voice.

“Show yourself!” he snarled, but he was answered by an non-threatened sigh.

“If I meant you harm or exposure do you think I would have said anything?”

There, movement and a form out…out in the water? The figure slid forward, dunking down slightly to the shoulders before rising out of the water again up to his waist. It was definitely a man.

“I know who you are,” the man said, “I have been watching you. I know you’ve done this before, of how close they came to finding you once…”

“Go to hell!” Irons hissed, wanting to pull the trigger but the night’s quiet stayed his finger. This close to the water the sound would carry for miles. He could wait, let this late-night swimmer come in closer.

“I have an offer for you.”

“I don’t make deals with people I can’t see.”

The man came closer, his movement not like any swimming Irons had seen, and stopped right in the surf, something coiling beneath him under the waves. His eyes glowed and a golden frill lifted slightly from his back.

Irons stumbled backwards. “Oh my god…you’re…they aren’t real!”

“Yes yes, the horror of learning you as a species aren’t alone. Your kind don’t handle that well. Anyway, I have an offer.”

“What…what the hell could you offer me? You’re a goddamn _fish_.”

The glowing eyes rolled but he continued anyway. “I will take that body and ensure it is never found. Any bodies, should you wish. Your human crimes are no concern of mine. Moreover, there is much you humans value in the depths. I offer you riches.”

Irons was shaking, tempted to pull the trigger, noise be damned, and show off his magnificent kill. No one would care about the tossed body then. And yet he didn’t get where he was by not at least hearing out opportunities.

“And what do I have to do in return?”

The water churned around the not-man’s waist as the sinewy, shimmering tail beneath him coiled and uncoiled. “Allow one of our own into your force. No questions asked. We will cause no disruption and will server for as long as our game needs to be played.”

Irons chuckled and then the ridiculousness of the situation caught up to him and he outright guffawed. “Even if I agreed, I think people will notice! Just how would a fish-merman-thing work in the force?”

“We have our ways. You just need to get us in.”

“And why do you want into the police force?”

“No questions. However, as a token of our good will,” the merman slid closer, almost crawling as the water became too shallow, and deposited something onto the rocks. Irons peered down and saw gold coins and goddamn jewels. Before he could move the sea monster shot back into the waves.

“I will also take that body now, if you want.”

“So…I just gotta let you in? You think one of you can handle the job?”

“I am well trained. A position of influence would also be preferable.”

“No harm will come to me?”

“None at all.”

Irons wasn’t so sure on that answer, and yet…

He bent down and scooped up the small pile of treasure. “I’ll see what I can do. Get rid of that,” he pointed to the body, “and I’ll think about it.”

Again the creature came forward, fast and powerful, coiling itself around the dead man. It was monstrous and beautiful and made Irons shiver. It observed the body and then reached into a pocket of the jeans, withdrawing a pair of shades. It smiled, it had too many sharp teeth, and slid them onto his face.

“I’ll be waiting for you answer,” it said, then, like a striking serpent, it retreated back into the water with the corpse and disappeared, leaving the chief of police staggering back to the car in a panic.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, I have to ask.”

“What?”

“The welcome sign outside town.”

“Oh no, did it fall over again?”

“What? No, no I mean, I don’t get it. Umbrella people?”

Chris Redfield came to Raccoon City to join the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, or STARS. His old Air Force buddy Barry Burton had called him some months ago with an opportunity and Chris was in no position to say no. It had been ridiculously easy, Barry’s word enough to get him hired after an interview and background check, granted part of the interview had been conducted in the firing range, and Chris didn’t feel it was boasting when he said he was one of the best marksmen around. That was weeks ago and yet the drive into the coastal city and it’s peculiar sign still niggled at him.

 

**_Welcome to Raccoon City_ ** _  
Home of the Umbrella People_

 

Jill gave him a quick, surprised look before she grabbed a banana for her tray. The cafeteria line was probably not the best place for this but best to ask before he forgot again.

“You haven’t seen the little figurines they sell in the gift shops? Or the cute red and white umbrella keychains?” she asked before sliding up to the register.

“I have,” he bought one for Claire, “but I don’t know what they _are_.”

She wait for him to pay for his own lunch and found a table before she answered.

“The Umbrella People are kinda the local cryptid. I don’t know if it’s some old Indian legend or if it’s newer. Hell a drunkard probably made it all up and everyone ran with it.”

“It’s Native,” Joseph said, sliding in next to Chris and giving him an elbow to move over, “Wait, what are we talking about?”

“Umbrella People. If you didn’t know then how do you know it’s Native?”

“Around here everything weird and creepy was already here before the White Man came.” Joseph took a bite of what was probably supposed to be spaghetti but had a consistency closer to oatmeal and then waved over the rest of Alpha Team who’d finished getting their food.

Jill rolled her eyes and continued. “Either way, the Umbrella People are basically sea monsters who can take human form. That’s how they hunt people.” She actually wiggled her fingers at Chris and added a ‘spooky’ tone to her voice.

“Okay,” Chris said slowly, “What do umbrellas have to do with it?”

She grinned very wide, “Legend has it,” wow she was getting into this, “that if they get wet, the spell that makes them appear human is broken and they turn back into monsters.”

“And it’s the coast,” Joseph added, “’Tends to rain a lot.”

“So they always carry with them umbrellas when they hunt, just in case it rains. The slightest bit of drizzle and up go the umbrellas.”

Chris glared at both of them. “Are you messing with me? That’s the worst story I ever heard.”

Jill just shrugged but Joseph said, “I know, right? Up north they got a giant wolf-bat that harasses campers or something, but we get dudes with sunglasses and umbrellas. We can’t even get something obvious like… wereraccoons.”

“Oh sunglasses now too?”

Jill sniggered, “The sun bothers their eyes because they are from the _deep, dark depths_.” Again with the fingers.

Barry, who’d sat down and listened to the conversation, finally spoke. “Legends are profitable, especially quirky ones. The umbrella crap was tacked on years ago and is now just kind of a local joke. Something to entice the tourists. The original stories are more like the old mermaid tales, you’ll be walking along the beach or the boardwalk and someone will pop up calling for help. If you follow them you don’t come back. Your chewed remains may show up some time later.”

“So basically Raccoon City sirens?” Chris asked.

“Pretty much. Even today disappearances will be blamed on them.”

“No proof though, right?”

“Yeah, people who go missing are usually found, one way or another. Has nothing to do with mermaids or weirdos with umbrellas.”

“Well,” Brad added, “some bodies still turn up mangled and chewed.”

“Those are called sharks. Someone dumps a body and the marine life gets dinner,” Jill said, her silly tone gone now that reality had taken over the story.

Barry nodded, “And it’s been a while since any bodies have been washed ashore anyway. If there ever were any sea monsters swimming around out there, they’ve long died out or moved on.”

“Like you all should be doing.”

And the lighthearted conversation was over. The captain of STARS, Albert Wesker, had come to collect them. Joseph made a dramatic sigh and actually argued:

“Come on, Captain, we just sat down!”

“I said a short lunch today, we have a lot to do. It’s not my fault you all wasted time talking about nonsense.”

Wesker marched off and with eyerolls and grumbling Alpha Team gathered their uneaten food and followed.

“I bet Bravo gets to eat their meals,” Joseph mumbled to Chris.

“At least you guys get to do stuff, I’m still landlocked.”

STARS was a special tactical unit officially attached to the RPD to handle terrorist activities and rescue missions, but with their skill sets they often acted as a small coastal force for local problems and as an assist for the actual Coast Guard when they needed to get involved.

Chris had settled into the RPD aspect of things quick enough but he hadn’t been cleared yet for the aquatic training, so more often than not he was forced to remain behind while his teammates handled their duties.

“I should be scuba qualified by the end of the week,” Chris said, “Technically I got a bit longer for the boat training but I’ve been fishing for years I know the basics already.”

“And today you got your crash-course in capitalizing on local legends.”

“I’m not joking, Joseph, that was the stupidest story I ever heard.”

“Yeah well, let’s you know how exciting things are around here.”


	2. The Raise in the Rain

Over the months, Chris learned several things about Raccoon City:

First, that it wasn’t really a city but a large town, isolated and almost quaint, and Chris couldn’t for the life of him figure out why a unit of STARS was needed here. Not that he was complaining, he loved the job and his new home. The tourism during the summer months encouraged a modern growth but the rhythm of the private fishing ships that slid out into the bay and beyond every morning had probably changed little in the last hundred years or so. It was a very different feel than New York City where Chris grew up and he was surprised to find he liked it.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder yet Barry assured him that the isolation of both the town and the bay had a bad habit of inviting unsavories such as drug dealers into their midst. Before Chris had arrived they’d routed some kidnappers who’d holed up in a cabin on the other side of Raccoon Bay.

The town was on the cusp of one age to another, but couldn’t seem to make that last step to cross the line into the modern era. Along the water, unique to Raccoon Bay, grew herbs with miraculous properties; it had drawn the Native Americans to the bay centuries ago and then the colonists after. Several major pharmaceutical companies had apparently tried to install facilities in Raccoon City to make use of this herb, and while such industry would give the town the boost it needed to become a true city, for some reason these deals always stalled and industry remained elusive.

Second, for such a quaint and friendly town, theft was rampant, especially on the beaches and boardwalks that made up the focal point of the tourism. Jill warned him not to take his eye off anything valuable even for a moment when he was out near the water.

“Maybe it’s the Umbrella People,” Chris sniggered and she laughed with him.

“If so I hope they enjoyed my walkman. I lost it while jogging one morning.”

“Then we should thank them. Get some CDs already, Jill.”

“The player skips when I go running!”

Third, not all the locals thought of the Umbrella People as a joke, most notably the fishermen. While Chris’ pay was hardly enough to grant him impulse splurges he couldn’t help but purchase a small, used boat with an outboard motor so he could go fishing on weekends and enjoy the bay overall. He rented a trailer and went to pick it up only to fear he’d never get to use it as the previous owner carried on and on about his own adventures on the water. Chris found them interesting enough but really wanted to get back.

The old man’s mood suddenly changed from jovial to serious, looking Chris dead in the eye. “Now when you’re out there, stay away from the lagoons on the east shore where those herbs grow.”

“Why?” Chris hadn’t had any reason to go anywhere specific in the bay but now his interest was piqued.

“Just keep your distance. That’s their space, those are their herbs.”

This had to be a joke. A local trying to punk the new guy. “Who? Oh, the Umbrella People?” he asked with a grin.

The man just frowned and Chris began to worry he wasn’t joking. “Whatever you want to call them, they don’t mess around and don’t like people in their territory. But if you don’t bother them they don’t bother you, got it?”

Chris didn’t take him seriously, he was an old man who’d been on the water for ages. No doubt he’d seen things and attributed them to the usual sea monsters, or maybe he’d been telling tall tales so long he was starting to believe them. Chris thanked him for the advice and took his new boat home.

The local joke cryptid just got a bit more interesting and Chris made a mental note to dig into the lore a bit more sometime.

Last, and worst, was that Chris suspected that he was developing a crush on Captain Wesker.

He didn’t know when it started. That first day months ago at the firing range when Wesker praised his skill and told him he was hired? The first time he took off his shades and looked at Chris with those pale blue eyes just to berate him? If so what the hell.

Wesker was an attractive man, yeah, but nothing amazing. Chris hadn’t felt any interest when they met or when he started working, but…

The other day the STARS captain offered him a coffee and Chris found himself grinning very wide and must have looked like a serial killer considering the arched brow Wesker shot at him.

Aside from the obvious fact that Wesker was his superior, there was the even more obvious fact that they were both men. Chris hadn’t put his finger on what the town’s overall opinion of that kind of thing was and he was in no position to risk his job over it.

And why Wesker? The man could be an asshole, had a cruel-streak that would put a college frat boy to shame, was distant, mysterious, knew his job well, was dedicated, made really intense eye-contact when he was talking to Chris like he was the only one in the room, had a really, really nice ass…

Fuck.

No. He wasn’t doing this. Wesker was his superior, was a man, and was obviously not interested. The eye staring was Chris’ own twisted hopes and Wesker made mention of ‘lady friends’ often enough.

Chris scrubbed his face and switched off his computer. He could finish these reports tomorrow after their weekly transport maintenance. It was his and Brad’s turn. Not so bad, really, Brad could get through his helicopter checks in a blink. Say what you want about his bravado but the man knew his birds.

“Finished, Redfield?” Wesker asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

Chris flinched. “Just about, but it’s past five and well…”

Wesker nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and started gathering his things. “G’night, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

Chris had no idea how a week could be so long as though nothing was happening while still keeping him busy. One would think a dispute between citizens that got a tad violent would be an RPD issue if anyone’s, but it was two fishermen out on the water and so fell to STARS. He spent an hour standing on a boat pretending he was doing something while Wesker had to mediate their stupid argument over… Chris had no idea, he blocked it out. The argument was only resolved because Wesker started to finger his Samurai Edge where the men could see it.

They went back to the station, Chris wrote the most boring report ever, then picked up to go home. He swung into the bar by the station for a quick drink to wash the droll out of him and then started the walk to his parking spot. Well, a parking spot. There wasn’t a lot of parking by the station anymore. It used to be a museum but when it was converted into a police station the garage and range had been built and taken up most of the old parking. Chris gave up on the circular driving around the same two streets looking for a spot and finally found some free parking a decent walk away.

It started raining while he’d grabbed his drink and with an annoyed sigh he walked faster.

It was still the off-season, most of the businesses in this part of town closed early save a few bars, so the streets were quiet and empty. Yet Chris paid no mind to the solitary figure standing out of the way until he got closer and recognize him.

Wesker stood under an awning, arms crossed and gazing out into the rainy skies with an annoyed twist to his mouth. His foot tapped at the step. Chris had noticed he had an odd habit of hooking the toe of his boot around poles and table legs and such whenever he happened to be standing by one.

“Hey, Captain!” Chris called as he approached, slowing despite still being rained on.

Wesker’s head tilted in Chris’ direction but with his shades on he was unreadable. “Redfield,” he said flatly.

“You waiting on something?”

Lips turned down again, Wesker gazed out into the dreary street. “On the rain.”

Chris glanced up at the endless wash of grey above them. “I don’t think it’s gonna let up anytime soon. You might just have to make a run for it.”

“I can wait.”

“It’s just rain, sir.”

“And these pants are dry-clean only. Is there a reason you’re asking me these questions?”

Chris shrugged; it really wasn’t his business what Wesker did during his time off but a bit of small talk never hurt, and… Those trousers had always looked pretty standard to Chris, it seemed weird that they were dry cleaned. Chris had spent some time observing Wesker’s pants (more specifically certain areas of them), he should be an expert on them by now.

“Well,” he mused, “would you mind some company for a bit? Until the rain stops.”

Wesker sighed. “Does it matter? I’m sure you’re going to do it regardless what I say.”

“You know me so well,” Chris said with a grin and moved under the awning. He shook some of the water off his coat and Wesker stepped out of range of the droplets. “We’re off duty anyway so technically I don’t have to listen to you.”

“We’re always on duty, Chris.”

“Yeah, I know, but… Never mind.”

They stood in awkward silence a while, Wesker’s annoyance increasing as the rain grew steadily heavier.

“Not used to the rain, huh?” Chris tried, desperate to end the silence, even if all that came of it was just as awkward.

“I am, just not like this.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you from, anyway? You’ve never said.”

Wesker glanced at hm, possibly glared but Chris couldn’t tell through the shades. “I grew up here, but I was…away, for a while.”

“Where at?”

“You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

Chris stuttered at the change of direction. “Y-yeah. You been?”

“No, I don’t get to travel much.”

And silence again. This was awful. It was never this awkward in the STARS office and on missions it was as though they could all guess each others moves because they knew each other so well. But here, now, having small chat on the street… Embarrassing.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone—“

“How are you settling?”

“What?”

“Aside from your obnoxious penchant to run off on your own your work in STARS has been commendable. You’ve adapted well, you have so much potential… But outside work, how are you doing?”

That sudden heat in his face was _not_ a blush. “Oh, uh, good. Good, sir. Thanks for asking. I found a place near the water, it’s small but it’s better than the apartment I was at.”

“Good. Any plans?”

Plans? _Plans?_ Well I plan on bending you over your desk at work and fucking you senseless while I wear your shades but that’s not a plan so much as a fantasy and _shit_ he had it bad.

“Uh, my sister’s coming up to visit soon, for spring break. She says it’s to beat the summer rush but it’s most likely to check on me…”

“I meant for STARS. Any goals?”

What? “Well I just kinda got here…sir.”

“And yet your abilities already surpass many veterans I’ve worked with. My saying you have potential is not just flattery.”

What was it then? Where the hell was Wesker going with this?

“I may need someone I can count on in the future and I’d feel more at ease knowing that person was you, is all.”

All of Chris’ thought processes screeched to a halt. What?

_What?_

“Sir…is something wrong?”

Wesker’s pale eyebrows arched above his sunglasses. “No, why would there be?”

You’re just suddenly very interested in what I’m doing and saying you need to count on me so either something’s wrong or I’m in the introduction of a wet dream.

“I need to know everyone on my team is ready to step up and take charge if anything happens, but a clear chain of command puts everyone at ease. Perhaps you would be willing to take that first step after me?”

Oh.

That was…still pretty amazing.

“Like a protege?”

“Of course this would be for alpha only. Enrico remains vice captain should something indeed happen to me.”

“I’m…” so flattered and floored, “What about Jill? Or Barry?” Was he trying to be humble or did he genuinely think either would be a better choice? Maybe both.

“Jill is clever and highly resourceful, and Barry is reliable and experienced, but what I’m looking for is _drive_. You have that as well as the skills. If you learn to curb that recklessness of yours you could become a good leader.”

“So…are you going to teach me the mysterious ways of the STARS captain? Do I get my own pair of shades?”

There was no doubt that the look he was getting this time was a glare and Chris realized he might have overstepped. Wesker’s sense of humor, such as it was, was a bit off-kilter and he didn’t usually appreciate normal people jokes.

“Sorry, sir.”

There was the slightest twitch at the corner of Wesker’s mouth and the glare softened. “They won’t count as a work expense.”

Chris released a huff of relief that was meant to be a chuckle.

Wesker returned his gaze to the darkening sky. “Go home, Redfield. As you said, this isn’t going to let up anytime soon.”

“What about you, sir?”

“I’ll manage. I always do.”

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Chris nodded and pulled the hood of his coat over his head.

“G’night, Captain. Stay dry.”

Wesker nodded and Chris hurried out into the rain.

“I try,” he thought he heard Wesker say before the rainfall drowned everything out.

 


	3. A Crowded Blue Bay

“Oh wow, you can see the water from here!”

“Yeah, a little bit. But the leaves are growing so the trees’ll block it out soon.”

Claire leaned on the rail of the little porch sticking out the back of Chris’ house, admiring the view. There was a yard surrounded by trees and through those the sunlight sparkled on the bay down the hill. It was a short walk to the shore and just as short drive to the public launch where Chris was going out on his boat more and more. The house itself wasn’t much, a small manufactured building dropped on the lot that had a tendency to leak, but the location was fantastic and Chris considered himself lucky to have nabbed it for the price he did.

“Still, it’s real nice, Chris. I only get a view of the highway from my dorm.”

He leaned on the rail beside her and gave her a brief hug with an arm around her shoulders. It was too good to see her. Claire called Chris once a week and he was more than confident she could take care of herself but seeing her and physically knowing she was okay was a necessity he needed now and again; a remnant from when they lost their parents and a teenaged Chris found himself the provider and parent to his baby sister. The military was a continuation of that: decent pay, education, and an assurance of Claire being provided for monetarily should something happen to him.

But it wasn’t one way and he knew she worried about him. He’d had a breakdown or two during those tumultuous first years they were on their own and it snapped Claire out of her sorrow with the realization that her brother couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ handle things alone. For his part Chris never meant for her to have to help him with that burden but in the end it had made them both stronger. To this day even as he needed to see her to be sure she was alright she would also insist on visits to make sure he wasn’t sending away all his money to her and living out of his car.

She’d been so pissed when she found out about that.

Now he was in STARS and his paycheck was good enough to cover both their needs until Claire finished school. She kept insisting she’d pay him back someday but he’d have none of it.

“The bay is gorgeous,” she breathed, “it’s so blue.”

“Yeah, the city has some programs set up to keep it clean and maintain the ecosystem and all that. Takes a bit extra for taxes but obviously it’s paying off.”

“Can we go out on your boat?”

Chris grinned, “I was hoping you’d ask!”

Claire grabbed a few drinks and snacks for the cooler while Chris hitched the trailer bearing the boat to his truck. They weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the sunny day and had to wait to back the boat into the water, but soon he was unhitching it and Claire pulled it farther down the dock while he went to park. By the time he got back she was giving him a funny look.

“What?”

“ _Wet Willy_ , really?”

He winced at the reminder of the tacky lettering on the side of the boat. “I didn’t name it, stop giving me that look.”

“Nobody’s making you keep it, Chris.”

“Oh no, you don’t change a boat’s name, it’s bad luck!”

She rolled her eyes and helped him push off. Any attempt to impress her failed as the motor refused to start. Grumbling, Chris crawled over the aft seating and started futzing with it.

“Problem?”

“It’s kinda old. Started giving me trouble a bit ago but…there we go! Okay, give it a crank.”

They slid away from the shore and other boats a bit before Chris opened her up and they flew across the water. Claire slid into the bow cockpit, the wind whipping through her auburn hair and smiled wide. The water was smooth and Chris steered them through the wake of several larger boats, the craft slamming through the waves and making Claire laugh as she bounced off the seat.

Raccoon Bay was longer than it was wide and reached inland at an angle from the ocean. It protected the bay from the rough sea waves but its mouth was large enough to easily slip right out into open ocean. There was a steep drop-off where the bay and ocean met and the water changed from a bright blue to deep navy, chopped with frothing white in the surf.

Chris skimmed the mouth of the bay, letting Claire look out over the ocean, before turning back into the protected, calm waters. His boat wasn’t large enough that he trusted it on open ocean if he could avoid it. He then cut the engine and let the little _Wet Willy_ drift while they opened the cooler for lunch.

“So this is what you do now, huh?” Claire asked as she opened a soda.

“Now that it’s warming up, yeah. Though Barry says once the tourists come in I’m gonna be busier. Idiots out on the water and all.”

Claire nodded. She’d only met Barry once but recalled liking the older man. She was glad there was someone her brother could trust here with him. She propped her feet up on the seat and grinned.

“Seen any sea monsters yet?”

Chris smirked. He’d told her about their silly local cryptid when he gave her the keychain. “Not yet, and I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Aw, they sound cute.”

“Not according to some fishermen. The guy I bought this boat from was pretty insistent that they hung out around the east lagoons and that I needed to avoid them.”

Her grin widened and Claire got that glint in her eye. “Let’s go. Let’s go find some mermaids.”

Chris shook his head. “You’ll be disappointed. The first weekend after I bought the boat I took Joe and Forrest out…they’re in STARS too…we got a bit drunk and went straight there to find some Umbrella People.”

“No luck, huh?”

“Nothing. We even picked some herbs yelling ‘here, monster monster’ and nothing happened. No angry sea serpents, no hot mermaids jumping into the boat.” Though it was around that time his engine started giving him trouble.

She gave him that look again. “They jump into the boats too?”

Chris sifted through the cooler for a beer. “Well, after that warning from the old guy, I went down to the library to get some actual background on these things.”

“You do love your conspiracy theories.”

“I do, but no conspiracy just the usual unconfirmed legends. Turns out Barry was right, the umbrella stuff is a recent addition, sometime during the war, but these sea creatures have supposedly been around since before the pioneers arrived.”

“So it’s an Indian thing?”

“I found nothing saying that, but the librarian noticed what I was doing and was insistent that the natives used to leave tribute to them whenever they caught a whale.”

“So what about them jumping in boats?”

“There’s actually a lot of accounts of that, especially in the late 1800’s, though with variations. A couple articles said that fishermen actually caught them, others claimed the mermaids showed up on their own.”

“Only mer _maids_?”

“Well fisher _men_ so of course their stories are gonna be about mermaids.”

“So why would mermaids be hopping into boats?”

“I’m trying to tell you, stop interrupting. So from the articles I read and the one book a local wrote, it sounds like whether caught or voluntary, the same thing would always happen. The mermaid would offer the fisherman a wish.”

Chris wait in annoyance for Claire to stop laughing.

“Wait, I remember that fairy tale,” she giggled, “’Please let me go, I’ll grant you a wish!’ But that was just a big fish.”

“Maybe that’s what all this is based off of. Can I continue?”

“Oh there’s more? Sorry, sorry, go on.”

“People would wish for riches, or for plentiful food for their families, but the thing that happened enough that articles were written about it was that they would wish for the mermaid to marry them. …Please stop laughing.”

“Why? I love this!”

“Look, a hot chick jumps into your boat and offers you _anything you want_ ,” he said this with an over-the-top, husky tone, “what do you think lonely fishermen are gonna want?”

“ _Fish pussy_.”

“Claire!”

She only stopped laughing because she snorted her soda, but by then Chris had joined her.

“They can take on human form, remember?” he added after he calmed a little.

“Until they get wet. Oh no, imagine the honeymoon, what happens when Mr. Mermaid com—“

“The stuff I read made no mention of that problem,” Chris said before Claire could finish, “I’m guessing that was added as part of the umbrella lore later.”

“Well that’s not any fun. There were articles about this?”

“Yup. ‘Local man marries mermaid’ with a photograph of the couple, of course she was just a human woman. The ‘proof’ being that he was out on the water all the time and wouldn’t have time to look for a wife and that his new wife was no one anyone recognized.”

“I don’t think that’d be too difficult back then.”

“Yeah, most likely she was new to town or someone on the run, maybe even from a bad marriage.”

“That’s sad.”

“Well according to the book every one of these mermaid brides eventually returned to the sea, either citing the usual fairy tale ‘husband didn’t follow the rules’ or she just disappeared one day.”

“So you got a legend built around marital problems. Wow.”

“Yeah. Otherwise the rest of the stuff about the Umbrella People is like the Greek sirens: they trick you into following them or wandering out into the water and then they eat you.”

“I kinda don’t blame them, considering the only other relationship they had with people was sexual slavery.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Hey, you said it yourself: they all left eventually. Love means they would have stayed.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Chris muttered, “But it’s just legends.”

“If it were real we’d certainly hear more about mer _men_ ,” Claire grinned, “or mermaids doing…anything other than granting wishes.”

“They do! They carry umbrellas, pick herbs, and scare tourists!”

“Truly a rich culture.”

Chris chuckled and finished his beer, putting the empty bottle back into the cooler. “So anything else you want to do today? The water’s still too cold for swimming but the beaches are mostly empty.”

“Show me around town? Then maybe dinner, my treat.”

“Most of the restaurants will be closed by the time we’re hungry again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty quiet here in the evenings. Maybe on your last day something might be open. How about we swing through the market and I grab a couple of steaks for barbecue?”

“Sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t an exaggeration that Chris would get busy as summer approached. Claire’s visit had been perfectly timed and as soon as she was back on the road Raccoon City began to crowd with people as businesses stayed open. The bay filled with joyriders and STARS swapped out their larger ocean-worthy patrol boat for a couple of motorboats for maneuverability.

Wesker hated them and was known for keeping his hand locked on the radar wing if he wasn’t piloting one himself.

But even that was only the beginning; as soon as summer officially began Raccoon City exploded with people. The hotel and motels were booked and the beaches were filled with bums and babes and screaming children ran through the surf.

It was an entirely different town and the RPD took complete control of handling land-side issues while STARS was almost always out on the water. Alpha and Bravo took shifts to cover the bay during the day and well into the night as young people rented boats to party out on the water. The larger boat was used to patrol the shoreline near the bay as people spilled out into rougher waters.

Even when Chris had the time to, he didn’t feel like going out in the _Wet Willy_ ; it was too crowded out on the bay and he was actually getting tired of boats.

“I think I miss the criminal stuff,” he confided to Barry one day as they skimmed the shore.

“Careful what you wish for,” Barry warned.

“Hey, it’s better than babysitting tourists.”

“Maybe, but come on, the locals love us for it.”

True, the better STARS handled issues the less the local population had to worry about their many temporary guests causing trouble.

Readjusting his hat, Barry turned the craft towards some teens who were speeding too close to the shoreline. “Besides, I’d rather babysit tourists all year long if it gets me on the water and out of an office!”

 

* * *

 

“Cut the engines, drift alongside it,” Wesker called, leaning over the water with a hand on the patrol boat’s rail and long pole hook in hand. The boat quieted but drifted forward and, reaching out so far his foot was nearly sliding off the gunwale, he hooked the pole through the netting tangled around the whale, gentle enough to keep their boat beside it. The large animal was barely swimming at this point, exhausted and in too much pain as the nets cut into its skin.

“There you go,” Jill said soothingly as she reached down to touch it, “It’s okay, we’re going to help you.”

“It can’t understand you,” Joseph said, tying the buoys to some hooks to latch to the netting to help the whale stay afloat while they worked. The nylon nets wrapped around its tail and fluke were weighing the poor thing down and it could barely stay at the surface to breathe.

“They’re very intelligent,” Jill argued, “I’m sure it knows we’re trying to help.”

The whale had floated into the bay early that morning, entrapped in netting and garbage, and immediately became a celebrity. The news latched onto the story and local children had already named the whale: Balu. Some locals and tourists alike attempted to cut the netting free but to no avail and so STARS was called out. Now people stood out on the beach and waited in boats to watch Balu’s fate.

They were kept at  distance by Bravo, who were circling in the smaller motorboats to keep the too curious and the news away so the whale wouldn’t panic while Alpha, in the larger patrol boat, worked to cut it free.

Chris stripped down to his swim shorts, buck knife in hand, and eased himself into the water.

“Careful, Chris,” Wesker called, “don’t swim up on it too fast.”

“It’s a whale,” Chris said.

“That’s a several ton animal an it’s injured, so do as I say and move slowly so you don’t frighten it and it crushes your skull!”

“Yessir.”

Chris paddled over slowly, letting the whale see him. It made no move as he took hold of some of the netting and began to saw at it. With no reaction, he waved Jill over, who was already down to her swimsuit and sliding into the water. She attached some of the buoys while talking softly to the whale, hoping to ease it. With that done she joined Chris in sawing at the netting. Joseph took the cut material and hauled it into the boat.

The radio crackled and Wesker handed off the boat hook to Barry before taking the mic Brad handed to him. He spoke to Captain Marini briefly before handing it back and leaning over the edge where his team were working.

“Heads up, we’ve got a couple of biologists from the school coming through. They want to check the whale over. Back off until they bring their boat alongside.”

Chris grumbled at the delay but pushed off from the whale, giving it some space. Partially freed, Balu attempted to swim away, dragging the patrol boat a little ways before exhaustion once again slowed it.

A small motorboat came through Bravo’s line and slowed, cutting their engines as they approached and tossing a line for Alpha to drag them alongside the patrol boat on the opposite side of the whale. Balu made little attempt to move again and Wesker gestured for Chris and Jill to continue cutting.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer, Captain!” Jill called.

“Good, but be careful the closer you get, it’s going to attempt to get away as soon as it thinks it’s free.”

Chris focused on cutting the terrible nylon mass, handing it in trailing bunches up to Joseph as well as bits of garbage that got caught up in it. He dunked under the water for a bit to get at the netting underneath and realized the scuba gear would have been useful here, but all of them had been in a hurry. The poor whale’s left fin was trapped to its side; Jill had already cut it free but it wouldn’t have lasted much longer without help. Balu, for his part, seemed to understand now what was happening and didn’t attempt to escape or fight. Chris could hear talking on the boat between Wesker and the biologists whenever he surfaced for air and soon another person slid into the water and came over to the whale’s fluke.

Surfacing and taking a breather, Chris smiled at the young woman. “Hi,” he gasped, “I’m Chris, come to help?” Damn she looked young for a biologist.

The girl smiled. “Rebecca, and yes, I’m just gonna attach this tracker first while Balu’s distracted.”

“Right. No offense but, uh, aren’t you kinda…for a biologist…”

Rebecca paddled to the end of the whale’s tail and pulled out her gear, “I’m just a student at the moment, Dr. Tomasson is up there looking him over.”

“Wow, they let a student do that?”

“They let me do it,” she smirked.

Chris nodded and let her work, diving back down to continue cutting on the net. Soon Rebecca moved over with Jill and was helping cut around the fluke.

The hard part was indeed when most of the netting was off. Balu began to try to swim away and with the buoys and boat hook removed very little held him back. Chris, Jill, and Rebecca returned to the boat wile Joseph held on to the last bit of netting attached, pulling them along. Chris cut the last of it and the boat floated to a halt, Balu swimming away unhindered.

Barry waved out at the various waiting boats and they could hear a cheer rise up over the bay as everyone celebrated the whale’s freedom. Balu breached in apparent joy a few times, encouraging the cheering. Bravo broke off their circle and instead moved alongside Balu at a distance, guiding boats out of his way and escorting him back out to the sea.

Chris couldn’t help but grin, pleased with himself and his team. He felt good. He looked over at his Captain to say so, but Wesker was intently watching the whale swim away, and Chris was sure that he saw Wesker lick his lips.

 

* * *

 

The feelings of accomplishment and pride were sobered the next day when it was sadly reported on the news that Balu was found dead out on the ocean shore that morning. It was publicly announced that the poor whale had died of his wounds and took this time to remind everyone of the importance of keeping their bay and ocean free of garbage and fishermen especially to dispose of their netting properly.

The real account, passed to STARS from the marine biologists who’d gone over the remains, was that the poor whale had been ripped to shreds, gutted, and stripped, only some bones, organs, and skin remaining that they wouldn’t have believed it to be Balu except for the tracker still embedded in the tail tip. They could only guess that some sharks took advantage of the injured whale, save the fact that, as far as they could tell, the whale was already dead when shredded; Balu had drowned.

Despite this knowledge, Alpha sat together in the STARS office, crowded around the TV on the rolling trolley and sharing their failure together.

“I guess we can’t win them all,” Joseph sighed.

“No,” Jill said, “but we should have for this one. This one mattered.”

Chris nodded but said nothing as the report concluded and the news continued on with the usual weather and local events.

Wesker, still working at his desk and ignoring the television, burped behind his hand.


	4. Questions and a Dip

“Okay, Barry was right.”

“Hm?”

“The office sucks, I want to be out on patrol.”

Jill grinned and turned her focus back to her computer, typing away. “I dunno, getting a break in the air conditioning isn’t so bad.”

Their air conditioning was an old unit Wesker bought used with his own money and grumpily shoved into the window. It barely worked but the few degrees cooler it did manage meant everything when stuffed into the badly ventilated RPD.

“Besides,” she added, “you were military, you know how paperwork goes.”

He had to concede that point. Flying jets in the Air Force would have been the perfect job if it wasn’t for all the damned paperwork. He couldn’t even sneeze near a plane without having to have some form ready and signed in triplicate.

“That just means I hate it all the more,” he said and finished the daily maintenance report. He emailed it to Wesker for final perusal (it was an unnecessary step for submitting a form but Wesker wanted to check everything before it was submitted to the database) and printed out a copy for their own files. Not bothering to get up and burn energy in the heat, Chris rolled his chair to the file cabinets by Wesker’s desk and dropped them into the daily reports.

The personnel files were in this drawer, and Chris could see his own name sticking up, as though the file had been removed recently. Oh no, Wesker must have been adding notes again. Curious, Chris removed the file folder and opened it.

There were some notes and recommendations but also a sticky note attached to them that read: _Chris stop messing around and get back to work_.

God that man was creepy.

Speaking of Wesker… Chris put back his own file and pulled out Wesker’s. The personnel files were available in the database but Chris felt suddenly sneaky looking at the hard copies. He glanced at the photo inside; it was criminal how the Captain could make looking simultaneously bored and annoyed attractive. He wasn’t wearing his standard sunglasses for once and Chris couldn’t help but enjoy those pale blue eyes.

“Um, Chris? What are you doing?”

He nearly dropped the folder in surprise because Jill was _right there_ , witness to his ogling.

“Just checking to see if Wesker’s number was correct in here. He never answers his phone and considering how much he bitches about us being available…”

“That’s true,” she said, though Chris didn’t miss the odd look she gave him.

“Any super secret info you want while I got the file open? I’m never above blackmailing a superior.”

There was a twitch of a smile and she leaned on Wesker’s desk. “Does it say where he’s from?”

“He told me he’s from here.”

“Not with that accent he’s not.”

“Maybe his parents were immigrants.”

“From where? Boston?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Anyway, unless he gave you, his _favorite_ …”

“I’m not his favorite!”

“…a working number then I don’t know how you’re going to check it from the folder.”

“Well, uh…”

“Hang on,” she leaned over Chris, thankfully distracted from the conversation and peered at the file, “Is that his address?”

Chris held out the file so she could see. “Looks like it. He’s well outside town, huh?”

“That can’t be right, though. I know those apartments, the place was condemned years ago. A company bought the land and started tearing them down but it got stalled for whatever reason. A lot of people forgot about it.”

“But not you.”

“Why hasn’t this been updated? Emergencies aside they need a current address for employment, right?”

Chris had a sudden, devious idea that was not at all self-serving. “Let’s go find out.”

“What?”

“After work. The schedule’s pretty normal with Bravo doing the evening shift, let’s find out where Wesker goes.”

She gave him a flat, yet incredulous look. “You want to follow Captain Wesker home.”

“It’s our duty as members of STARS to have up-to-date information on our teammates. Plus we can rub it in Wesker’s face next time he bitches at us about something.”

For a moment Chris thought she was going to refuse, but her flat look became animated into a smirk with an evil glint in her eye. “You know what? Why not. Let’s follow Wesker home, I wanna see what kinda creepy digs he has. Not to mention the potential revenge next time he makes us work a seven day week.”

 

* * *

 

Chris was somewhat worried about how good at this whole ‘secretly following someone’ Jill was.

They’d left work before Wesker like normal, making a probably too loud mention of going to the bar together, and then waited outside the RPD for him to leave. Wesker was one of the lucky few with a parking space which meant there was no question to where his vehicle would emerge. It was an old Ford Bronco, brown with a light cover and hard to miss and Jill slid out into traffic behind it.

Jill’s car was the opposite: newer, in better shape, but a generic sedan that blended in with the others. The perfect tail car. Jill followed several cars behind Wesker, confident even when they lost sight of him several times.

“Have you done this before?” Chris asked.

Jill looked smug but didn’t answer.

The sun began to set as they left town and the light dimmed, though Jill didn’t turn on her headlights. They followed Wesker well away from town, off the main road and down several side roads.

“Where he hell is he going?” Chris whispered, as though Wesker might hear them.

“There’s no developments down here. Maybe he has a house?”

The Bronco finally turned off the road onto what was little more than a dirt path, barely wide enough for the broad vehicle. Jill waited, letting him get well down the way before following at a creeping pace. They emerged from the trees onto a beach encircling a small cove, surrounded on both ends by woods. Jill stopped the car and shut off the engine when she noticed Wesker’s car parked on the sand.

“I don’t see a house…or anything,” she said.

Chris was peering at the Bronco, trying to see Wesker. “What’s he doing?”

Aside from some movement in the car, they waited a while before anything happened. It was getting dark and visibility was poor, but finally the driver side door opened and Wesker slid out of the truck, his jacket and shoes off. He stretched, looked around, and then began to strip.

“Well!”

Chris agreed with her, but all that came out was a gulp. At this point Wesker was little more than a silhouette on the sand, but it was enough.

Tossing his shirt and pants into the truck, Wesker sprinted into the water, only taking a step or two before he dove and disappeared.

“Okay,” Jill said slowly, “so we still don’t know where Wesker lives but we’ve learned he enjoys skinny dipping. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with that.”

Chris was still trying to get some saliva back into his mouth. Those long strides, the slight glint of light on Wesker’s backside as he dove…

He had it so bad at this point it was embarrassing. Damn his weak, gay little brain.

Though it wasn’t really his _brain_ that was the problem, was it?

“Chris?”

Shit, focus. “Yeah?”

“That was a bust. Let’s go.”

“Wait, we could wait ‘til he’s done. How long do people swim anyway?”

“Seriously?”

Her annoyed tone grounded him. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Did you have plans?”

She started to speak then caught herself, then with a sigh sank back into the seat. “No. I mean I wanted to, but as busy as we are lately, I really haven’t had much time…”

“Sorry.”

“Hell with it, we’ve gone this far. We can wait a bit.”

Chris drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “You gonna be ready to hightail it in reverse when he starts to leave?”

Jill snort in derision, “Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know…the Master of …Tailing?”

“Funny.”

“Hopefully he’s just taking a quick dip. Stalking our Captain wasn’t my whole plan for this evening.”

“It wasn’t mine at all. On the other hand…when has Wesker ever done something easy for us?”

“Crap.”

 

* * *

 

“I spy, with my sharpshooter eye, something…dark.”

“Everything. It’s everything ever.”

“You’re good at this.”

Jill grumbled and fiddled with the radio. “Is Wesker a damned champion swimmer or something? I mean I’m glad I won twenty bucks but this is ridiculous.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“The way Wesker acts when we’re out on the water sometimes, really trying to avoid it, Joseph is convinced he can’t swim so we made a bet.”

“Uh, we have to prove we can swim before we’re accepted into STARS. How the hell would Wesker manage that?”

Despite the dark, Chris didn’t need to see Jill to know she was making an obscene gesture with her hand and mouth in explanation. He shoved her, trying to ignore the sudden twitch of his dick as the mental image of Wesker formed, on his knees and mouth around Chris’ cock, Chris’ hand messing up that perfect hair, and then those pale blue eyes snapped up to meet his own and…

_Algebra class! Algebra class, taught by Ms. Perch! Ms. Perch with the wrinkly dewlap!_

“Obviously he can swim I just assumed he’s prissy or something.” Chris slumped back in his seat, wriggling to get his ass more comfortable and his jeans less tight in the crotch area. “But I guess he also swims ridiculously well.”

“A couple more minutes then we head back.”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Shit!”

Chris started forward, disoriented until he remembered where he was. It was pitch black.

“What is it? Shit, I dozed off…”

“I did too,” Jill said, “It’s past ten o’clock.”

“What? Crap!” He looked out the window, as though the dark would part for him, “Did Wesker come back?”

“I never heard his truck leave, but maybe he left farther down the beach and we slept through it. Doesn’t matter, let’s go.”

Jill started the car and turned on the headlights. Both stared at the Bronco, sitting on the sand just beyond the beams.

“He’s still here.”

A chill crept down Chris’ spine. “Did…did he come back?”

“It’s been hours, of course he did.”

“Then why is the truck still here? He should have left.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m gonna go check.”

“Chris!” she grabbed his arm as he started to open the door.

“What?”

“You’re not gonna go knock on Wesker’s window and let him know we’ve been watching him skinny dip or whatever.”

“He got in hours ago! What if something happened?”

“It was a long day and then he took a swim; he’s probably sleeping it off. That truck’s big enough.”

“But…”

“Chris,” she said, so firmly he could almost see her expression despite the dark, “if it were earlier, we could make up some bullshit about sneaking off to this cove, seeing his car, and wanting to say hi, but it’s late. There’s no excuse for us banging on his window at ten at night. It’s summertime, we work long hours, he’s not the only one taking naps on the beach.”

Chris slumped back in the seat. “And if he is in trouble?”

“He comes in early for work. If we don’t see him we know where to start looking. You said it yourself, he grew up here. He knows what he’s doing.”

Chris surrendered and watched the Bronco disappear into the dark as Jill turned her car around and headed back to the road. She was right, of course; cars were all over the place at all hours of the day lately as vacationers took cheaper options than a motel.

But Wesker didn’t seem to be the type, especially not on a work night. The possibility of drowning aside why didn’t Wesker go home? The bay was saltwater, wouldn’t he want a shower before he slept? And while big enough to nap in, the back of the truck wasn’t that big that Wesker would be comfortable.

Jill dropped him off at his home and Chris rushed through a shower and fell into bed, setting his alarm early. He was going to figure this out.

 

* * *

 

“You’re here early.”

Chris was startled mid-yawn by Wesker as he sleepily meandered down the RPD corridors, though it took him a second to recognize the man.

“Captain!” too excited, Chris, “I’m glad to see you.” I’m glad you didn’t drown and we left you. “Uh, I mean…you’ve been working late a lot, so I thought I’d come in early and help out.”

Wesker’s faint eyebrows rose. He wasn’t wearing his shades, in fact all that Chris recognized as Wesker wasn’t there. His hair was loose, his eyes overly blinking in a just-woke-up manner, and his usual immaculate clothing was gone, replaced by a rumpled shirt and sweats. Was he wearing flip-flops? Under his arm Wesker carried an overnight bag that was clearly full.

“I…appreciate that, Chris. The Fourth of July weekend is coming up and I want to get the schedule worked out and maintenance up to date before my shift on patrol. Just give me a bit to get cleaned up.”

“Sure, I’ll see you in the office.”

Wesker nodded and headed towards the locker room. Chris took a second to appreciate the way the sweats looked on Wesker then kicked his brain back on track. Looking like that with the overnight bag meant Wesker had indeed slept in his truck. But why? It didn’t seem right. Chris’ suspicions began to stir but he pushed them down; a one night event meant nothing.

Yet he couldn’t quiet them completely, so the next morning he dragged himself out of bed and showed up for work early again, bumping into a just as rumpled and unkempt Wesker as the previous day. The Captain would vanish into the locker room for a while and then emerge as immaculate as ever.

Every day. Chris was early every day that week,and every day Wesker cleaned up in the RPD locker room.

Meanwhile Alpha team took great glee in mocking him for this sudden bout of brown nosery, save Jill who noticed Chris’ somber mood.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“What?”

“You’re here every morning early and your sudden dedication seems to be actually making Wesker…well not happy per se but less annoyed than usual, but every day you look more and more bummed.”

“I’m just tired. Early birding and all.”

“No, you get weird and annoying when you’re tired. You get quiet when you’re upset about something. What’s wrong?”

Chris tapped at the space bar on his keyboard; there was something satisfying about that little clunk noise. “After we followed Wesker I got kinda worried, so I came in early to make sure he was fine.”

She rolled her eyes at his odd devotion to Wesker but let him continue.

“He showed up early to get cleaned up in the locker room. I figured you were right and he slept out on the beach, but he does it every day.”

“So?”

“Every day? Here? Why doesn’t he get ready at home? He’s so…immaculate and careful but he shows up looking like he just rolled out of bed. He comes to work early and leaves late, and as far as I can tell always heads back to that cove.”

“Wow, did you follow him again?”

“Only a little ways.”

“What are you getting at, Chris?”

He hesitated. The idea was stupid, and yet he couldn’t discount it. “I think Wesker’s living out of his car.”

Sighing, Jill slid her chair over and sat down. “I highly doubt that. He gets paid more than we do and there are some cheap areas around here. I mean unless he’s _way_ more social than we thought and he’s got a hoard of little Weskers all over the place he’s paying for.”

Chris snort at that, ignored the rising bout of jealousy, and instead chuckled. “Maybe. But he’s got a bad address, never answers his phone, does his morning routine here… I’m just aware of some of the signs.”

“Even if you’re right, what can we do about it? It’s not our business.”

“I think it is. We’re a team, we look out for each other.”

“We do,” she said, her eyes softening, “but unless he actually says something there’s nothing we can do about it. You have a hunch, but Wesker just might prefer being here. Ever think that he actually likes this job and that’s why he’s always around?”

“Maybe.”

“Look, if you’re really worried about it, talk to him.”

That made Chris laugh. “Oh yeah, that’d go over well. He doesn’t talk about himself, never spends time with us outside of work…”

Jill tapped at her lip. “Maybe he doesn’t think he can? I mean, he’s our superior, maybe he ascribes to the ‘never mingle’ school of thought. Have any of us made him think otherwise?”

Chris stared at his now blank screen he’d been hitting the space bar so much. “You’re right. We should invite him when we get together. Get him to open up.”

When the end of Alpha shift finally arrived Chris checked back in his weaponry, signed off on both the patrol boat and its completed post-patrol maintenance and refill, and headed up to the office to type out a few sentences summarizing the day’s events. He’d get the proper report on the drunk teenagers harassing some seals (who in turn ended up harassed) tomorrow.

Barry had already left, along with Joseph. Brad was doing a quick check of the communications equipment but was clearly rushing, eager to leave. Chris printed out his brief daily report but before he could grab it Jill snatched it from the printer and handed it along with her own to Wesker as she headed towards the door.

“Chris, wanna grab a drink before we head home?” she asked.

“Sure thing, let me finish up here and I’ll meet you outside the locker room.”

She nodded and left. Her favorite part of the day was discarding her STARS uniform and the necessary mentality with it for a civilian attire and outlook, a small ritual to be performed correctly and so Chris knew he had plenty of time to close up and head down, especially because he tended to just wear his uniform to and from work. He turned off his computer and double-checked that any important documents were locked up for the night before sliding on his jacket.

“Brad, at least buy the console dinner before you get that intimate,” he said as a farewell as he headed for the door. Brad told him to shove it but turned a bright red anyway.

“G'night, Captain,” Chris added, glancing back at Wesker who only nodded, eyes locked on his paperwork.

Hesitating, Chris couldn’t help but study his captain. Wesker, even sitting, seemed stiff and tightly wound somehow, despite the relaxed way he held his pen or shuffled papers. He was here early and left late every day, then apparently went and spent his time alone. Possibly in a truck. What did the man do for fun, aside from swimming? Was Chris wrong and Wesker had a family somewhere? A home?

He kept himself apart from his team and Chris didn’t like that at all.

“Hey, Wesker?”

Wesker glanced up. “Yes?”

“You’re welcome to join us. The bar’s right next door…”

“I know where it is, and thank you but no. I have to finish this up before I head home.”

Chris shuffled in place. “Well…do you really have to? It’ll still be here in the morning.”

Arching an eyebrow, Wesker regarded Chris a long, uncomfortable moment. “It will, but I’d rather make it go away now so I have a fresh start tomorrow. Maybe another time.”

Brad shut down the communications and beamed at Cris. “I’ll join you for that drink.”

_You weren’t invited_ , it took a lot of Chris’ effort not to snap, but Brad was a teammate too and Chris’ supposed his offer came off as open; why would he ask Wesker specifically, right?

“Cool, I’ll meet you down there,” Chris said, forcing a grin.

Brad grabbed his jacket and left, a smile on his face and Chris felt a pang of regret for his anger. He had a bond with the others but not Brad and he wondered how much the pilot wanted to be more involved with them all outside of work. The man was certainly…skittish…okay no he could be flat out spineless in the face of his superiors or any other major hazard which tended to rankle Chris.

He turned back to Wesker, who was still staring at him with a very unreadable expression. His eyes were pale blue, but somehow as deep as the ocean and Chris felt like he was drowning…

“Well, I guess I better get down there before Brad surprises Jill.”

“I don’t think he’s capable.”

Chris chuckled. “Goodnight, Captain. Don’t work too hard.”

 

* * *

 

With the tourist crowds choking Raccoon City and its bay, it was hoped that the regular criminal unsavories would quiet down for a bit and STARS could focus on drunks and stray fireworks. Unfortunately the excess people made spotting these crimes more difficult and drug dealers ran rampant. Further protection lay in the fact STARS had been instructed that any risk to civilians was to be avoided; better a few drug dealers got away than innocents get shot and their local dealers knew this.

Arms dealers, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter. Aside from any immediate threat these men posed, catching them meant a link to the arms ring that plagued the coastline. A tip from a fisherman made its way through the RPD and landed on Wesker’s desk and the entirety of STARS was pulled from their mundane patrols to tracking down where and when the exchange was occurring.

Tuesday, in the middle of the day under a bright sun and on a public dock in the marina, surrounded by civilians. A quiet arrest and extraction would be best, if possible.

Possible it was, but their luck was not with them. Bravo team won the coin toss and moved in, Captain Marini approaching the smugglers as a marina manager come to point out they’d been docked in a temporary space too long and requesting their permits while Forest and Kenneth had taken up posts on two boats docked nearby, ready to jump in on the arrest or cover Enrico should things go sour. The rest of Bravo wait just out of sight. Alpha was in their patrol boat, drifting by the breakwater should things really go wrong and the dealers made a run for it.

Chris watched through his binoculars as Enrico and Forest made their move, hopefully catching their prey off-guard. The dealers put their hands up as Bravo drew their pistols and calmly led them up into their own boat to unlock the door to the interior.

“Good so far…” he breathed, adrenaline simmering beneath his skin in concern for his teammates.

There were gunshots and then the smugglers’ boat leapt from its mooring and plowed through the marina, its wake sending docked crafts bouncing. Chris didn’t see Enrico or Forest. The Bravo patrol boat swung in behind it, pursuing.

“Shit!” Wesker yelled, tossing his own binoculars aside, “Cut them off!”

The Alpha patrol boat roared to life and surged towards the escaping vessel, but despite its size the arms dealers’ boat was faster an more maneuverable than it appeared. It swerved past them as they reached the end of the breakwater and sped out into the bay.

Joseph spun the helm and the patrol boat cut sharply to starboard and followed, pushing the engine as far as he dared, coming in just behind Bravo.

Hand gripping the bow rail, Chris balanced on the gunwale and watched the dealers’ boat through his binoculars. There was a tussle on the deck, and with relief he saw Enrico and Forest jump from the boat into the water.

“Marini and Speyer overboard, they jumped!” he yelled over the engine and spray to Wesker, who ordered Bravo to pick them up over the radio while they continued pursuit.

At this point, their only goal was to chase the dealers out to the ocean. Brad was circling overhead at a distance in the helicopter, and once the enemy vessel had cleared the mouth of the bay he would stay with them and guide the Coast Guard, already on their way, to their location. They were more equipped to deal with the criminals once picked up.

But they had to ensure the dealers actually left; Raccoon Bay had far too many inlets, coves, marshes, and other such places in which they could easily hide and escape. They had to be pushed, and with so many civilians on the water, Alpha turned on their sirens and emergency lights, hoping to keep other boats out of their way.

It was the final straw and knowing they couldn’t slip away without losing the patrol boat, the smugglers opened fire.

The patrol boat swerved, not only to avoid the gunfire but to gain distance between themselves and the many civilian crafts. Chris cursed as his foot slipped on the gunwale and he repositioned himself. Behind him, Wesker swung up, pistol drawn.

“Redfield! Time to put those skills to use!” he shouted, then fired, free hand gripping the rail, his knees bent to keep himself as steady as possible while the boat leapt over the waves.

Chris hesitated. “What if we hit the gas tank? The whole boat could blow!”

“Better them than us, they chose that when they fired on _my_ team! Do it, Chris!”

Chris drew his STARS issued pistol and took careful aim. It was nothing like the range, or even the military as his whole body slammed up and down, just out of sync with the boat under him, trying to aim at men doing the same. He fired and one of the men on the enemy boat spun, clutching his arm.

“God _damn_ , Chris!” he heard Barry laugh, leaning over the windshield and taking a shot while Jill slid in behind him.

“Cease fire!” Wesker yelled as Joseph steered the boat around some anchored crafts who had no hope to getting out of the way. They swung wide, allowing the dealer’s boat to gain some ground. Glancing behind them Chris could see Bravo returning to the chase.

Suddenly Joseph yelped, loud enough Chris heard it before the boat lurched to the side so hard the gunwale simply disappeared from under his feet. He fell, body slamming into the hull before he lost grip on the rail and dropped. He briefly saw Wesker’s shocked face as he too was thrown from the boat before cold, dark water enveloped him.

The loss of gravity and air disoriented Chris for a moment before equilibrium returned and he kicked towards the light. He surfaced with a gasp and floundered a moment before his senses returned and he tread water.

The Alpha patrol boat’s stern sunk into the water as it’s engines cut down and it came to a halt a little distance away. Barry was on the bow, waving Bravo past to keep up the chase. The other patrol boat surged past, siren shrieking. Their own boat swung around and Chris waited for them to come to him before paddling to the swim platform and accepting Jill’s hand to be pulled up onto the deck.

He coughed some water out of his mouth and nodded in response to Jill’s pat on his shoulder, silently asking if he was alright, then she disappeared to the side, scanning the water.

“What happened?” Chris gasped.

Joseph was on his feet, climbing up where Chris had been before he fell. “Some idiot wasn’t paying attention and nearly drove right into us, I had to swerve. Sorry, man.”

Chris shook his head, getting water out of his hair and ears, and noted in dismay his pistol was gone. Fuck, a lost weapon’s report was in his future, Wesker was going to be pissed…

Wait.

“Where’s Wesker?” he asked, knowing the answer as his team continued to lean out over the edge of the boat, searching.

“We didn’t see him surface,” Jill said.

“What?” Chris climbed up past the driver’s seat to the bow, looking around. Wesker had been thrown clear, he should have surfaced and waited for them to retrieve him…

“Was he wearing a life jacket?”

“Are any of us?”

“Damnit!”

Chris felt panic begin to rise up. The arms dealers were completely forgotten.

“Captain!” he yelled, as though by simply being summoned Wesker would pop up like a buoy. “Where did he fall in?”

“Near where you were, right over there,” Barry said, pointing.

“Where the hell is he?”

“Wesker!”

The bay was calm, and save the civilian boats bobbing some distance away, watching them in interest, there was nothing on the water.


	5. The Importance of Pants

Wesker thrashed as he came to. The sudden, unexpected transformation, so soon after this morning’s change ripped into him so hard he blacked out. Fortunately the buoyancy of his ilk was less than a human and he continued his downward trajectory from his fall, albeit slowly, so the others perhaps didn’t see him.

Coiling about himself to shake off the shock, Wesker backed farther down into the dark as he watched the STARS boat above him. He did not see Redfield, so hopefully he’d been retrieved. Through the barrier of water and air he could hear Alpha team calling for him, the boat idling about in slowly widening circles.

Wesker cursed. He cursed the arms dealers, he cursed the tourists, he cursed Irons for giving him this stupid assignment that required such a risk of getting wet, and he cursed his predicament over all.

He needed to focus. Alpha would only search so long, probably until Bravo returned. He could still hear the unique sound of the STARS patrol boat engine, far away but clear, near the mouth of the bay. There wasn’t much time.

He needed to get back to the cove. His supply of the essence of the Stairway of the Sun was there and if he could change back before they gave up their search he could make up some reason he disappeared.

Again he cursed as he saw the state of his uniform. The shirt was badly torn where his dorsal fins and spines had ripped through but it was still usable. His pants on the other hand were a lost cause; ripped to shreds when he got his tail back, though the belt remained around is waist. He tore off the remaining material and cast it aside to be lost with his boots. The shirt he removed and bundled together, tied with his belt. His gun was gone too but he would worry about that later.

Smelling and tasting the water to get his bearings, Wesker turned south and headed to the shore. Through scent, taste, and sound Wesker could find his way around the bay effortlessly. The waters tasted different dependent on the plant life and stones, and the scent of the fish and crabs and other things identified every beach and sandbar. Sound bounced off every surface and he knew the terrain without having to look. He still had yet to properly combine that with the vision-based surface way of navigating and changing from one to the other left him lost. Turning human felt like going partially blind.

Slithering across the bay floor with his spines raised, Wesker could feel even minute changes in the movement of the water. In this way he found a decent current and slid into it, dorsal and tail fins extended completely like sails to carry him along faster.

Too many motors roared in his ears and he dodged through a few nets dragging across the floor. His eyes glowed as the bay deepened and the light faded, and a pair of seals lit in the corner of his vision.

The water grew warmer and shallow as he entered the cove and Wesker headed straight towards a  large cluster of rocks at the edge of a sandbar, mostly submerged. He rolled one of the heavy rocks aside, revealing a gap. Within was a box, latched and locked, and within that a neat row of glass syringes, blown to fit over the needle spines of the venomous fish. The needles were capped by a thick swath of congealed ink. Wesker selected one and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt and buttoned it closed before returning the box back to its place and concealing it. Now he just needed to get ashore and…

Pants.

He needed pants. The rest could be dealt with but he absolutely refused to face his team or anyone with his ass and everything else hanging out.He was going to need luck several times over.

He followed the shore and the smell and sounds of humans. Swimmers on the beach were his best bet, but he couldn’t risk being too near crowds either. He retreated to deeper waters and poked his head up, scanning the shoreline. From a distance he looked like nothing more than a peering sea lion, so took his time getting a good look.

Humans splashing around in the water. Not too many, but enough a stray eye would see him, even if they were so kind as to leave him a pair of pants right near the water. He moved on, heading northward. There were less popular beaches, made of rocks or difficult to get to on land, there would be fewer humans but humans nonetheless because they couldn’t seem to help but get themselves and their stink everywhere. He would try one of those and hope for the best. He was running out of time.

Another secluded cove, framed by the mouth of a large stream, indeed had only a couple of humans playing about on its shore. A man and a woman, enjoying each other away from the crowds. Their car was parked nearby in the trees. Wesker placed his shirt and belt under a large rock that it wouldn’t get carried away in the tide and slithered forward for a closer look. The stream had eroded away the bay floor, creating a deep pathway in the earth that allowed him closer inland without exposing himself.

After his misfortune of falling overboard his luck decided to make it up to him. The young couple stripped and, laughing, ran into the water and proceeded to splash each other and other intimate things. Their clothes lay on a beach towel, unwatched.

Wesker swam right up to the shore, alternately measuring how far he would have to go to reach the man’s jeans and glancing out at the couple, still busy.

With enough propulsion, Wesker could cover most of the distance at decent speed, though returning would be more difficult. He’d done it before, many times raiding the things human left unguarded on the beach or docks, but he’d been much younger then.

But he couldn’t lose this opportunity. With one last look at the humans, he dunked back down underwater, taking long, deep pulls of oxygen through his gills, and then, coiling his tail underneath him, he thrust himself out of the water.

It was ungainly, a nauseating motion as his arms thrust him up and forward, his sinewy tail winding behind him like a snake, but he made it to the pile of clothes. He could breathe air, but was not efficient enough at it to warrant this level of exertion and panted as he gathered up the jeans and rotated himself around, turning and drag-crawling himself back to the deep pool by the stream. He dove into its coolness and gasped in precious oxygen and swam back to where he left his things and then back out into deep water.

Now he needed privacy. Somewhere he could change and recuperate safely. With another transformation in under and hour he was going to be unconscious momentarily and he couldn’t change back to a human if he was wet. He was going to be exposed. Vulnerable.

But he didn’t have time to be picky, so the first stretch of unused beach he spotted he swam up through the waves and crawled out onto the dark sand. It wasn’t as popular as the pale sand that made the picturesque beach humans so loved and Wesker was grateful for that as he lay there, shaking the water out of his hair. He rolled the wet clothes through the dry sand, trying to get as much water absorbed as possible and then tossed them aside into the sun.

Good enough. He pulled out the syringe and removed the ink from its tip. He dusted sand off his arm and located the soft place in the crook of his elbow between thick skin and scale, and then slipped his belt between his teeth.

This was going to suck.

 

* * *

 

Chris stared forlornly out at the water, hoping, _begging_ , that Wesker would appear, waving an arm to be seen and cursing them all out for taking so long, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. They’d searched for an hour, both Alpha and Bravo and even some locals pitched in to help, but there was no trace of the Captain.

They needed to report, to refuel. The search would continue but at this point it was just a matter of waiting for the body to surface.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Anything could happen to them out here, especially on a mission like today, but somehow it was so…wrong. Drowning was a too real possibility and yet Wesker was merely tossed from the boat and that was it.

That was it. He was gone.

It hurt, far more than it should have. Chris never imagined that he’d actually act on his crush, it was a fantasy, Wesker was his superior, and yet the opportunity could be there, and that was enough. Now that too was gone.

Chris had only been part of STARS for not even half a year and yet he’d never felt so part of something, even when in the military. Something he could almost call a family. Now, once again, part of that family was ripped away.

Did Wesker have any family? They’d have to tell them. If not…one of STARS would have to identify the body whenever it washed up, if it did at all. Most likely Captain Marini.

Chris didn’t envy the Bravo captain. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Wesker like that. Bloated, partially eaten, discolored skin and guts shredded off the bone… No.

His silly crush aside, Wesker was a good captain, and while Chris didn’t know him well personally he knew enough to say that he was also a good man, if a bit prickly. It wasn’t fair.

He made sure he was facing away from the others as he wiped at his eyes.

With the chase and the subsequent search many of the boats had drifted towards the mouth of the bay where they could see the action, such as it was, so the Alpha patrol boat skimmed the shoreline where it was clear as they made their slow, somber way northward. No one said anything, save when Brad called in to report the Coast Guard had, after a short chase, managed to capture the boat of the arms dealers.

Chris felt like he should have answered the radio, should have taken charge. Isn’t that what Wesker had been guiding him towards? But he couldn’t, he couldn’t look away from the water, because until it was officially declared, that small flame that hoped Wesker would surface and bitch endlessly at them still sputtered and burned. Barely. So he couldn’t look away. He owed his captain that.

His eyes burned from the glare of the sun off the water, and that’s why the tears wouldn’t stop forming. He doubted his teammates would argue that fact.

Barry passed the news on to Brad who insisted he had enough fuel to fly a few circles around the mouth of the bay before he had to return to the RPD. At this point it was more or less a useless endeavor, but Barry gave him the go ahead and Chris’ stomach clenched with regret. Perhaps he’d been too hard on Brad, the guy always meant well and did the best he could, considering.

Isn’t that all any of them could do?

If only he’d been paying more attention, he wouldn’t have slipped, could have tried to grab the captain and keep him from going over…

Chris sighed, took another swipe at his eyes, and continued to scan the water.

Jill was piloting the boat, sending it along at a crawl along the coast, most likely to give them all time to collect their thoughts before they docked and immediately had to brief Irons on the matter, then they would swap out with Bravo and continue the search. Joseph had given up the pilot’s seat, more shaken up than he’d admit, and stationed himself on the bow. Barry stared out on the opposite side of the boat from Chris, watching the shore and sometimes staring through the binoculars because then it felt like he was doing something.

The boat gently turned as they went around the old rock pilings that marked a bare patch on the shore halfway up the bay. Supposedly this was the site of the original town where the first settlers had built a few fishing shanties before relocating farther north where they were more protected from the sea. It was technically off limits but people always snuck through the rusty barbed wire to explore, though at this point in the season they waited until night after being chased away by STARS one too many times, so the patch of dark sand remained empty.

“Holy…” Barry gasped, dropping his binoculars and then peering through them again as though to be sure, “Jill, stop!”

“What is it?”Jill asked and Chris felt the boat slow further.

He didn’t care what stupid shit the tourists were doing in the old site right now and didn’t turn around, stubborn in his pathetic ritual.

 “Is that…? It’s Wesker!”

That made him spin and rush to Barry’s side. “You sure? Where?” _Please, please don’t be fucking with me, universe._

“There,” Barry pointed to the stretch of sand and a figure who lay on it. Chris couldn’t make out too much but it was a man, lying on his back too close to the water, arms open and legs bent. Barry handed Chris the binoculars and through them the figure’s features became familiar. The blond hair and the STARS shirt uniform was unmistakable.

“Oh my god, it is Wesker!” Chris yelled, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“How the hell did he get all the way over here?” Joseph called.

“Who cares! Jill, quick, get us over there!”

She couldn’t pilot the boat fast enough for Chris, despite the fact he knew some of the old pilings became fully submerged at high tide and so this area had to be maneuvered carefully. Otherwise the sandy beach was steep enough that even the patrol boat could pull up nearly to the shore before, coming in slowly, they felt the gentle bump of sand against the hull.

Chris leapt from the boat into water that came up to his waist and started to the beach, calling for the captain who didn’t respond, just laid there. Chris could hear the others splashing in behind him.

Coming closer, Chris could see Wesker’s shirt was shredded, his boots were gone and…something else. But even as Chris splashed out of the water onto the beach Wesker didn’t move and Chris felt a spear of cold pierce through that now brightly burning hope.

_Please don’t be dead, oh god, please don’t be dead._

His entire lower half weighed down with water and now sand, Chris collapsed to his knees next to Wesker and, with one hand on the captain’s shoulder, felt for a pulse at his neck. Wesker was covered in sand, mostly in his shirt and pants.

His…jeans? Wesker wasn’t wearing…

Wesker’s eyes snapped open and he coughed, glancing around as though dazed a second before his eyes snapped to Chris and focused.

“Chris?”

“Oh thank god!” Chris laughed, and couldn’t help but turn and call “He’s alive!” to the others as they approached even as it was obvious as Wesker slowly pushed himself up, grimacing as though in pain.

Chris put an arm around his shoulders and helped the captain sit.

“What are you doing here?” Wesker asked, clearly trying to hide the unsteadiness in his voice.

“I could ask you the same thing, you asshole!”

“I…swam here.”

“You swam here,” Barry repeated, squatting down in front of his captain, the doubt obvious in his voice, “That’s almost two miles.”

“Ha! Pay up!” Chris heard Jill yell back at the boat where Joseph remained. He replied with disbelieving profanity.

Wesker rubbed at his temple, mouth turned down in frustration. “I didn’t swim the whole way. I fell from the boat and I guess I got caught in a current. Dragged me a while, I nearly drowned. By the time I came up for air there were no boats around so I swam to shore.” He coughed again, gagged, and then spat something solid, black, and leathery onto the sand, right next to what remained of his belt that was somehow in two pieces.

Wesker looked like shit, and with Chris’ arm still around his shoulders, he could feel the tremors running through the STARS captain. He’d also made no effort to get up any further or push Chris away and Wesker was not one for physical contact. Chris couldn’t help but worry.

“Barry, call an ambulance out here.”

“No!” Wesker snapped, pushing himself up and out of Chris’ hold, “No, I’m fine, just… Just let me catch my breath.” He slumped forward slightly, tucking his legs under himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I used to swim around out here all the time, it’s no big deal.”

_Used_ to. “Did you get as torn up then too?”

Wesker glared at him. “I told you, I was dragged, I probably got caught up in some rocks.”

“Probably?”

“I had bigger concerns, Redfield. And being tumbled about underwater is disorienting, last I checked. Which was just now. Are you done interrogating me?”

Chris felt heat dance across his face. Why was he questioning Wesker right now about this anyway? It wasn’t like the man wasn’t going to have to fill out report after report of what happened. “Sorry, sir. Can you stand?”

Wesker muttered to himself and started to push to his feet. He hissed in pain as he straightened his legs and would have pitched forward had Chris not grabbed him and steadied him.

“Easy,” Chris said, pulling Wesker’s arm around around his shoulders to keep him on his feet, “I got you.”

“I’m _alright_. Give me a minute and stop fussing.”

“We thought you were _dead_ ,” Chris blurted, “We thought you drowned and we were going to have to fish your body out of the bay and…” he trailed off. He said way too much.

Barry conspicuously disappeared back towards the boat before things got even more awkward and Chris wished he’d just done the same.

Wesker was silent, staring at Chris. Without his shades his pale eyes were exposed, readable, and very, very confused.

“You were…concerned?”

“Of course I was concerned, Wesker! Holy hell! We all were!”

With every step Wesker became more steady on his feet and yet Chris kept hold of his arm, tracking the tremors that were also fading away. The captain pulled it free himself and stopped at the water’s edge, staring at the space between the shore and the patrol boat.

“Actually,” he said, softly as though he was speaking to Chris alone, “I think I’ve had enough of boats and the sea today.”

“Oh.” That was understandable. The man nearly drowned, and Chris had to admit to himself that he too preferred the idea of keeping Wesker on land for a bit longer right now.

Jill was standing nearby, staring at something in the sand.

“Hey, Jill?”

She glanced up, eyes wide as though just now remembering what was going on.

“Tell Joseph to call in to have a car sent out here, the Captain and I are gonna ride in.”

Wesker arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need to babysit me, Chris.”

“I think I do, you’re so desperate to get out of work today. Why can’t you just call in sick like normal people?”

Wesker rolled his eyes.

Still preoccupied, Jill gave Chris a thumbs up. He in turn waved at Joseph and Barry on the boat and guided a still slightly off-kilter Wesker off the beach.

“Anything else you need while I’m being accommodating, sir?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, a burger sounds good about now, we can swing by the drive-thru. How much money you got?”

“My wallet is soaked.”

“I guess you’re shit outta luck then.”

“Redfield!”

Jill watched them disappear through the brush as they headed towards the road before she squat down and stared at the strange patterns on the sand, almost washed away by the rising tide.

Large swaths of winding grooves, like a giant snake, coming up out of the water and suddenly vanishing into tossed and disturbed dry sand near where Wesker had been lying.

 

* * *

 

What a horrible day.

After his impromptu dip, Wesker was stuck at the RPD for hours writing his reports and filling out lost weaponry paperwork. The effects of his excess transformations had worn off long ago but the exhaustion was settling in fast.

The sea was calling but as he parked his Bronco on the beach of his chosen cove he stayed in the driver's seat, staring out at the water. He needed to rest, he needed to _breathe_. But he’d wasted a vial of T already, not to mention another transformation so soon would do who knows what to him, but how long could he truly go without it?

There were too many unknowns, and only he alone to figure them out.

With a growl of frustration, Wesker pulled off his jacket and boots and slid into the back of the truck, wrapped himself in a blanket, and fell into a fitful sleep.


	6. Names, Evil Plots, and Dick Jokes

Jill was happy to be out on the bay in one of the smaller speedboats. Normally tourist babysitting duty rankled her but Wesker had been in a rotten mood for days now and she wanted to be away from him, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. Even Chris, with his large puppy eyes that appeared whenever the captain was around but not looking at him, seemed fed up with the man.

Chris excused it at first. He claimed that Wesker had shown up to work looking awful, like he hadn’t slept, and again whispered his theory that Wesker was homeless.

Like people with beds never had shitty nights.

Joseph was her partner today and, once well away from shore, lifted the aft seating to reveal a cooler and pulled out a soda. At her annoyed glare he passed her one.

“Any plans this weekend?” she asked, placated.

“Me ‘n Chris 'n Forest are gonna head out of town for a bit,” he said.

Translation: Joseph, Chris, and Forest were going to hit the back roads in the woods for some racing. She was both relieved she wasn’t being dragged into that and annoyed she wasn’t invited.

Joseph returned the question and Jill shrugged. “I don’t know. On one hand I want to go out and do something but on the other…”

“Vegetating on the couch drinking beer and watching shitty TV is fantastic?”

“See, you get me.”

He smirked and nudged her with his foot. “My turn to drive. You had yesterday.”

She surrendered the pilot’s seat and stretched, leaning on the windshield and observing the bay. Most of the boaters on the water knew the STARS speedboats by now and were better at not being caught messing around, but they occasionally got to chase down some dumb teens or drunkards who’d started their vacations.

A flash of blond caught her eye and she grabbed at Joseph’s shoulder.

“Stop, hang on!”

“Whoa, what? What is it?”

“Over there!”

The craft slowed and swung around while Jill leaned out and scanned the water.

“What?” Joseph asked.

“I thought I saw a little girl in the water.”

“This far out? Alone?”

“I swear I saw her! A little blonde girl swimming around…”

“I don’t see anything.”

Neither did Jill, and she was not prone to seeing things or jumping at bits of light on the water.

But there was no one swimming right now, no boats near them, no floating debris she could have mistaken as a swimmer, so she could only concede that she did jump at shapes.

“Sorry, guess I was wrong.”

Joseph shrugged and turned the boat back onto their loop. “Probably stress, Wesker’s being a bitch again.”

“I’d say dunk his head but it just seems to make him worse,” she said, sitting down and taking a long drink of her soda.

In the corner of her eye she saw something splash in the water, but once again when she looked there was nothing.

 

* * *

 

The heat beat doubly on Wesker as he wandered down the boardwalk, from the late afternoon sun above and the reflected heat from the concrete and wood below. The summer months were waning and Raccoon City had one last surge of tourists before things began winding down again, though the heat would trail well into September. It was at its worst now, so Wesker bought an ice cream cone from a street vendor to cool his innards.

Off duty and out of uniform, few paid him mind, save a local or two who gave the STARS captain a hello or ‘good afternoon’. Wesker just nodded in response and walked on. He hoped he could get this over with quickly and not have to walk up and down the boardwalk like a fool. Fortunately he barely made it past the old wooden stairway down to the beach before he saw him.

A tall man in a black overcoat leaned against the rail, back to the sea and watching the crowds of people. He wore gloves and dark sunglasses, a hat and folded umbrella at his side, completing the ridiculous ensemble. He didn’t acknowledge Wesker, who stopped near him, watching the sun glitter off the water and licking at his melting ice cream.

“You are embarrassing me,” Wesker finally hissed at the man, not making eye contact, “Could you be more of a stereotype? You even have an umbrella.”

“It could rain, then what?” the man grumbled and Wesker winced at his accent.

“There’s not a cloud in the sky, you are just being more obvious.”

“Stop wasting time and give me your report…” the man made a coughing noise followed by clicks and it was his turn to wince.

Wesker glanced at him. “Human throats cannot handle our language, that’s why we have code names. Use Wesker. You are…?” Wesker trailed his hand in the air, as though waiting for the other man to give him something.

“Sergei.”

“Ah yes, that doesn’t stand out _at all_.” Irritation was making him bold but he didn’t care. He’d spent years training to understand the surface world and assimilate and then idiots like Wielder took some T and then bungled about with no concern to the effects of their presence. Luckily the people who did notice the other man just seemed to laugh, assuming he was dressing up as the local monster to amuse the tourists.

“I do not care, _Wesker_. The name is suitable. Now what have you been doing up here that is taking so long?”

“My mission. Infiltration requires I perform my human role acceptably in order to keep it which takes time and effort. Despite all that I even managed to guide the hunters to an injured whale for easy harvesting that will feed us all for weeks, it’s not like I’ve been sitting on my ass. And your accent is atrocious,” Wesker snapped, “Speak the Old Tongue if you can’t handle English.”

Sergei glared at him through his shades but switched anyway. The Old Tongue had once been the language of the first humans who had settled on the bay centuries ago, and the People learned it to ease communications between them, but through the ages it had absorbed new words and phrases to adapt to a changing world and became something else entirely. Wesker was certain a pure version of the Old Tongue was preserved somewhere in their archives but that was of no concern to him.

Freed from linguistic restraints, the Wielder could make his annoyance known. “Your status, Wesker, and quick with it, I don’t have all day.”

“You really don’t,” Wesker smirked, “and there’s nothing new to report. My place in the RPD is maintained but I do not yet have access to the targets or the water supply. That’s all you need to know; the details go to Spencer alone.”

“You are taking too long, you think Spencer is pleased with you?” Sergei sneered, stepping into Wesker’s space. “You think he wants to hear about your little adventures as a surface grub eater?”

Wesker did not back away, but took a long lick of his ice cream before it melted onto his hand. “We knew this was going to be a long game when we started and Spencer promised me time. We have one shot at this and we have to do it right. If we fail, we are done, there is no other chance! I am the only one who can fully bond with the Stairway of the Sun.”

“Truly? Have we already removed your offspring as a possibility?”

Wesker’s back itched with his instinctual need to raise his spines and dorsal fins into an aggressive display. He bared his teeth instead, well aware of how pathetic it looked as a human and tried to play it off as a yawn.

“At least I’ve produced viable offspring for the clan. What have you done?”

That did it. Sergei’s hand snatched the collar of Wesker’s shirt and twisted it upward, lifting Wesker into standing his full height and tightening it around his neck. Too much more and he’d cut off blood flow of the carotid artery and Wesker would be unconscious before he even knew it.

“You forget your place, you little eel,” Sergei growled, his voice dangerously soft.

“You’ll get your hands off me before you make a scene. People know me here, do you want to risk humans trying to intervene?”

Slowly, and with one last twist, Sergei’s hand released Wesker’s shirt collar and dropped back to his side, though he did not back up. Wesker continued:

“You may be Spencer’s right hand but this is _my_ mission and I make the decisions, understand? I answer to the Ruler, not you, and I will take as long as I damn need to do this right. I will not fail due to your impatience after all this. Do you think you can replace me? How long can you keep those legs, anyway? An hour? Even that?”

Sergei snort in disgust and leaned back against the railing, glaring at passing humans. “You are swimming along a volcanic vent, and when it erupts in your face I will be there to see it.”

“Of course. I will be returning home soon, my supply of T is low and I will give Spencer a full update then, if you must tell him something. Be sure Willful has a new supply for me.”

Wesker didn’t need to see Sergei’s eyes to know he was rolling them. It was an odd trait the People shared with humans. “You will get what you get. He’s barely been able to look away from his G project.”

Wesker sighed at the reminder. G was to be an improvement over T but it was incomplete and untested. He knew if Wielder had his way then Wesker would be the one to test it and he did not relish that idea. “Then remind him what’s at stake. Perhaps you need a reminder as well. We ignored the problem for too long and now look at us.”

“The only mistake we made was getting involved with humans,” Sergei grumbled before pushing away from the rail and walking away, vanishing down the boardwalk to whatever secret space he used to transform.

On that, Wesker couldn’t disagree. But hindsight and 20/20 and all that, or whatever the humans said. He shoved the last of the ice cream cone into his mouth and swallowed it whole, soothing cold sliding into his gut.

 

* * *

 

Chris lifted his hand before his face, his thumb and index finger positioned so Wesker’s head appeared between them and proceeded to close them repeatedly, visually squishing the Captain’s head.

Summer was drawing to a close, the last days of beautiful beach weather and the calm of the off season approached and Wesker had to ruin it by being a dick. Every report was wrong and had to be redone, the team dawdled on patrols and took too long or didn’t take long enough so clearly they weren’t taking their jobs seriously, and one time Joseph accidentally grabbed Wesker’s lunch from their mini fridge instead of his own and he might as well have murdered Wesker’s mother for how livid the man became.

Something must have happened, Chris reasoned; the dark circles under Wesker’s eyes had been there for some time now and twice he’d caught Wesker sitting at his desk or in the locker room when he thought no one was looking, head in his hands in exhaustion.

Chis was worried about him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t also hope his captain would trip and eat the ugly office carpet.

Despite feeling the same irritation, Jill swat his arm when she saw what he was doing.

“I want to leave on time today and get a well deserved beer,” she hissed at him after checking that Wesker was occupied at the file cabinets, “do not set him off.”

Chris dropped his hand and turned his attention back to his computer screen, double checking his latest report while wondering why he was bothering when Wesker was just going to send it back. His focus didn’t last long when Wesker found what he was looking for and bent over to reach the lowest drawer of the cabinet. Chris tilted ever so slightly in his chair for a better view.

He was more than capable of being pissed off at someone while still wanting to plow them. Or be plowed, Chris wasn’t picky. And the tactical pants hugged Wesker’s ass very nicely. Tactically.

_Wesker's tactical buttcheeks._

Chris sniggered at his own joke and tried to stop staring at Wesker’s ass, mainly because Jill was right next to him.

“Redfield.”

Chris jumped so hard his keyboard clattering in protest as he slammed his hands onto it. _He knew!_

Now everyone was staring at him. Jill, without a word, reached over and took Chris' mug of coffee away from him.

Wesker arched an eyebrow at the antics and sighed. “Come with me,” and he turned and left the office.

Chris blanched but quickly followed after. What was this about? He threw a beseeching look to Jill over his shoulder but she waved him away, her face clearly saying _You deserve whatever this is_.

He caught up to Wesker in the corridor and let him lead. The RPD was seemingly endless corridors and stairways and rooms, but after walking it for so long now Chris could probably find his way asleep. If he knew where they were going. He was confused when Wesker led him to the locker room and even more so when Wesker went straight to his own locker, opening it and pulling out a labeled, sealed bag that he handed to Chris.

It was his pistol, the one he lost when he fell overboard.

“Whoa, how did you…?”

“It got caught up in a fisherman’s net and lucky you they were good citizens and immediately handed the weapon over to the RPD,” Wesker said, not smiling but certainly not angry. If anything he seemed oddly pleased with himself, “You’ll have to ensure its working condition but at least its accounted for.”

True. Chris hadn’t enjoyed that investigation and reprimand for carelessness that Chief Irons delightedly dished out to both him and Wesker.

Still, odd that Wesker was the one giving it to him, from his locker of all places. Storage or the armory should have held it and returned it to him.

“The same luck didn’t help out with your gun though, huh?” Chris asked.

“No, I have to assume my own lost. Oh well, more business for Kendo.”

That was…a very laid back response for a guy who lost it over someone taking a bite of his sandwich. A very disgusting, fishy sandwich according to Joseph.

Finished with his errand, Wesker shut his locker and turned to leave. Chris just stared at the tagged pistol in his hand. Why did Wesker go through the trouble of getting it just to give it to Chris himself? Why did he look so pleased if not smug about it?

Why did Chris suddenly think about how lonely the other man must be? He came to work, went back to the cove, then slept in a truck. Rinse, repeat. Wesker’s life was indeed STARS and yet no one really knew him and, especially with how he was acting lately, no one really tried too hard.

“Captain.”

Wesker paused, turned around.

“We’re going for a drink after work today. You’re coming along.”

Wesker started to frown but it twisted upward into the slightest of smirks. “I am, am I?”

“Yeah. You’re obviously exhausted and frankly it’s making you lash out at us and we’re sick of it,” Chris braced himself, he’d said too much already but he was going for it, “So stop being an asshole and come relax and have a couple of beers already.”

Now Wesker did frown and a slight edge lined his voice, “If I’m so terrible then I’d assume the last thing you’d all want is to be around me more.”

“Or maybe we need to make sure you remember that we’re a team and we look out for each other, and not just when on a mission. Come have a drink, loosen the hell up with us for a couple hours, and then take a goddamn nap.”

Chris expected an argument, he expected anger, but Wesker was looking at him intently, no shades, eyes exposed and seeking something.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Wesker said, softly, dryness covering a thin layer of genuine disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Wesker gave a long sigh that turned into a grumble, “Fine, one drink, but I have to finish–”

“It’ll be there tomorrow. You’re going to burn yourself out. For once, Wesker, just….slack off.”

Now Wesker glared, but even that softened and his eyes shifted into a different kind of sharpness. “Delays do piss off Irons.”

“And who doesn’t love pissing the chief off?”

“The one who takes the brunt of the pissing, and that’s me.”

“Thus we come full circle, for the cure for that is alcohol.”

Wesker sighed again, then chuckled, tapped his toe against a bench leg, “A drink it is, then. Just one, I won’t be staying long.”

“Sure, sure,” Chris said, beaming at his victory.

He kept beaming even when he received a few side-eyes from Jill and Joseph when he showed up at the bar with Wesker in tow. The looks lessened when Wesker didn’t berate or nag them and in fact seemed uninterested in participating in their conversations at all. He ordered the one promised beer and proceeded to nurse it for an hour, barely drinking any.

Chris had the odd feeling that of he tried to pull Wesker into the group he would, for lack of a better term, spook the man and he’d never come back, so Chris left him to sit in silence and listen as his teammates loosened their tongues with drink and laughed at crappy jokes.

Still, as the alcohol made him bolder, Chris couldn’t help but keep sneaking a few long glances at his Captain whenever Jill and Joseph’s attentions weren’t on him. Wesker was wearing his shades, despite the bar’s dim interior, but Chris could tell he was looking around the large, crowded room like he’d never seen it before.

He tapped Wesker on the shoulder, “Never been in here, huh?”

Wesker’s head snapped back around sharply, as though he’d been caught at something. “I have, just not for very long. I didn’t see the point of staying.”

“Well now you got one,” Chris said, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture encompassing the resident STARS.

Wesker ‘hmm’ed.

Swilling the dregs of her Budweiser, Jill gave Chris a weird look he couldn’t interpret. “So what did you guys go do earlier, anyway? Chris fuck up again?”

Chris opened his mouth to speak but surprisingly Wesker cut him off.

“Chris was fortunate enough to have his pistol found and returned. I ensured he got it because otherwise the notice would have sat in his inbox for a week.”

Chris flushed, though he blamed it on the alcohol. Well, that did explain Wesker’s actions, though Chris thought he’d improved on keeping up with his paperwork at least a little. Those early mornings stalking Wesker (because even Chris had to admit that’s what it was) were beneficial on that score.

“Wait,” Joseph said, “you lost your gun in the bay, how was it found?”

Wesker shrugged. “Caught in a fisherman’s net.”

Sniggering a little, Joseph whispered conspiratorially, “A likely story. Most of the fishing is done outside the bay, unless your Samurai Edge wandered into a crab pot.”

Jill caught on and her voice too dropped, barely heard over the noise of the bar patrons, “Maybe it was…the Umbrella People!”

Joseph dramatically gasped and Chris snort into his beer a little.

Wesker started tracing his finger over the rim of his glass, making it hum. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Chris chuckled, “a fucking mermaid found my gun and said ‘oh shit, I better hand this over to the RPD!’”

“’Can’t let this fall into octopus hands!’”

“It’s more the seagulls you have to worry about,” Wesker muttered.

“Scuttle, no!”

“Is there an underwater RPD reception or did she slip’n’slide her way into the lobby waving a gun around?”

“Wait,” Joseph was transitioning from sniggering to giggling by this point, “Real question: do the Umbrella People use seashells or they, y’know, free-boob?”

“Free-boob?”

“Important things I need to know!”

“ _Free-boob?_ ”

“Bare breasted!”

“Liberated bosom!”

“Hey now, we don’t joke about bosom, that’s a classy word.”

“What about merman dick? You think they got weird tentacle junk?”

“Jill, that’s gross and inappropriate.”

“ _Double dick_.”

“Stop that!”

Jill cackled at their discomfort.

Wesker watched the conversation devolve into dick jokes, a look of bafflement even his shades could not hide on his features. Chris gave him a slight nudge.

“See? This isn’t so bad.”

“It’s certainly not what I was expecting but also explains a lot. However I…think I will drop in from time to time.”

Chris braved a hefty pat on Wesker’s shoulder that earned him a glare. “There ya go, next drink’s on me!”

“I just need the one, but thanks.”

“Well we’re still here so more drinks! On Chris!”

“I didn’t mean you two!”

“He doesn’t love us!”

“I don’t!”

Wesker watched, fascinated, as Chris placated Joseph’s false sorrow by gifting him a dead ball-point pen while Jill quickly ordered another round on Chris’ tab while he was distracted.

 

* * *

 

“You have my number in case of an emergency but otherwise don’t bother me,” Wesker instructed, collecting a few items off his desk.

“Not that you’d answer even if it was,” Joseph whispered to Chris.

It was very short notice but Wesker managed a three-day vacation for himself. While his mood had been better since Chris had called him out, he was still obviously stressed and exhausted and none of his team complained at his sudden time off. Whatever got their captain to chill.

“Captain Marini’s in charge. Chris, you have Alpha in Enrico’s absence. Barry, you make sure Chris doesn’t fuck up. The rest of you…don’t do anything that will make me have to fill out extra forms when I get back or…”

“We’ll be good,” Barry cut in before Wesker could start the threats, “Enjoy your weekend, get some rest, Captain.”

Wesker nodded and walked out the office doors without another word.

Chris wait a few seconds then yelled, “Party in the STARS office!”

“Redfield I swear to _god_ …” Wesker’s voice echoed from down the hall.


	7. The Realm of the Umbrella People

The old Bronco eased onto the beach of the hidden cove, but instead of parking on the sand Wesker backed it into the treeline. Not hidden, really, but its brown coloring faded into the trees well enough to not be initially spotted should anyone happened by. There he wait, crossed arms resting on the steering wheel, for the tide to come in.

If fast enough, Wesker could manage two long strides into the water before he transformed. At low tide, the sandbar emerged and formed a shallow stretch of calm between it and the shore, and becoming himself again in the shallows was something Wesker avoided unless necessary. At high tide the water was just deep enough Wesker could safely submerge.

Finally the tide was high enough and Wesker stripped, folding his clothes into a laundry bag and setting that away from the clean clothes, neatly piled and organized. From under the passenger seat he pulled a mesh bag containing a few items heavily wrapped in plastic and bagged. Included was his Samurai Edge that had gone overboard with him. He found both it and Redfield’s but decided to keep his own. He could make use of it.

Checking the beach was empty, he slid out of the truck and locked it. The car keys and his wallet he zipped into a lunch bag and buried it nearby under a bush. Then he crept back to the treeline and crouched, again checking to ensure he was alone, watching, listening, before he sprint out towards the water. Two steps in and he dove.

It always hurt, transforming from one form to another, but this way always came with relief as his tail unfurled and spines and fins lifted from wherever the hell they went. He shivered, shook off the shock, and groggily made his way out to the submerged sandbar. There he retrieved the box that had contained the vials of the essence of the Stairway of the Sun and added it to his bag. He swam out into the bay.

Wesker did not follow the floor at first, but skimmed along the surface, rolling until he faced the distorted, bowl-shaped sky above. He trailed a clawed finger along the surface, carving into that sky.

Too soon he was where the human boats floated along and dived down, his dark scales making him near invisible against the bay floor, save the gold stripe down his back. Dorsal fins lifted, he found a current and sailed along, in no great hurry for all he wanted to get home. He took a moment to untie a few crab pots from their markers for fun, munching on the innards of a caught crab. The sea floor dipped as the bay grew deeper and Wesker followed it, weaving along the seaweed and sighing in relief as the water darkened.

Finally he reached the mouth of the bay, the waters swirling in meeting currents. He didn’t fight them, but rolled with them in loops and reveling in the fluidness of his own body.

Humans were so contained, so stiff. Born of the land they were brittle and unyielding like it, to their own detriment. Wesker had never known pain like the morning he’d woken up in the back of the Bronco, every joint stiff and screaming, not even when a shark bitten off part of his tail, and that had _hurt_.

Spat free of the meeting currents, Wesker twisted along the shore, the song of the surf guiding him like a heartbeat. Then away and down he went, into the rocks and kelp, along the fish that dodged away from him. This level of sun and warmth lasted only a little while before the shelf dropped down into the darkness. He’d read in the archives of distant shores where the sunny, lively shelf of fish and seals and otters and coral stretched on forever, and the Clans of those places had lived in the sun and warmth. Not so here. The shore and the continental shelf lay close like lovers, huddled together against the mass of the endless Pacific.

He followed the rocky shelf down into the dark. The cold and the pressure closed around him, comforting. On land Wesker always felt like he was going to float away. The fragility of humans could most likely be blamed on that pressureless, airy world. The sea would crush them in the People’s realm.

Yet the People required the food of the bay to live, the herbs to thrive, always had. Otherwise they would have been happy to stay below and ignore the world of bright light above.

Some light made up the realm of the People, enough to see, but dim enough to rely on their own sight. Slithering along the jagged rock, a figure lit in Wesker’s vision, a unique shimmer of colors identifying it as one of the People. Undoubtedly they saw him too, but both moved on without acknowledging each other.

The other _aanakellriit_ were born of fingers, so they said, bound by the hand to function together and so formed their pods and herds, but the People were of Sedna’s womb and born into the wide oceans alone. They made up a clan and formed family groups, but the clan would stretch down the coast for many miles in either direction, keeping to themselves and only gathering now and again to hunt and trade. But that was long ago; now they huddled together in what remained of their old forums and carved out their lairs in dead structures.

He found the right outcropping of rock and slithered beneath it to a door, a heavy metal grate that kept out larger sea creatures but let the small fish and other edible things wander in. There was a lever by the door and he pumped it several time before he heard the heavy clunk and creak of the door lifting, then with a screech it stopped. Growling in annoyance he struck it with his tail and it resumed its slow rise. The damn engineers needed to do their jobs and maintain their home.

How many engineers were even left anyway?

Wesker swam through the entryway before it started to close again and followed the passageway, lit by tiny glowing squid that meandered about the roof of their caves until evening when they’d head up to the surface to feed. Wesker snatched one as he slid by and swallowed it whole. He could almost hear one of his many mothers chide him for it: don’t eat the lighting!

Much as he wanted to go straight to his lair, Wesker knew he had to give his report to Ruler and check in with Willful. Dealing with Wielder and the Ruler always left him mentally exhausted so he followed a passageway upward to the labs.

The laboratory that made up the home of Willful and his wife was a long journey through many underground passages back upward. The pressure lessened and Wesker knew he was almost back at surface level. The passage opened up into a large cavern where, instead of bioluminescent creatures, actual lights were strung along the walls among pipes and large glass containers. Wesker ignored the contents of them and swam upward and broke through the surface.

The roof of the cavern was low, he could touch the ceiling, but a bit farther up it lifted a little, and here was Willful’s lab. Grating was built into the ceiling and there Will stored the items that couldn’t remain in the water. What didn’t fit on the shelving hung on cords and wires in glass vials and bottles. Wesker couldn’t help but trail his hand among them, hearing them whisper in the damp.

Willful’s head popped up out of the water immediately at the sound, his ears twitching.

“Stop messing with those.”

“Good to see you too, Will.”

Willful snort and ducked back down into the water, following the grating down into a constructed room that could be shut and sealed. Wesker followed, all too familiar with the laboratory. Lights flickered on and lit a dingy space of metal and old machinery that Wesker had once longed for.

“What do you want, Bright?” Willful asked.

Wesker pulled the vial case out of his bag and held it out. “I need more T samples.”

“And a looking over,” Will said, pulling a book from a slat in the grating, “We still don’t know the long-term effects of the Stairway of the Sun.”

Wesker settled at the bottom of the room, his tail coiling around a protruding rock to anchor himself, waiting as Will fussed around with his books and tools.

The water had a stale taste to it, any currents winding through these deep tunnels slow to remove the decay and other things, and yet Willful never complained. Wesker couldn’t help but wonder if he even noticed.

Willful was suited for this life. Aside from his genius, he was smaller than Wesker, both in build and length, his maneuverability in the passageways unmatched among the males, and his mongrel heritage made him prone to the occasional bouts of emotion that hindered his ability to interact with most others of his kind. Isolation was good for him. He was always wearing a cote of discarded fishnet to which he tied his most often used tools or anything of interest when he traveled. His patterning was dappled reds and pale blues with splotches of white on his dorsal fin. He only had the one, and it was hardly impressive in display. His spines were few and the ones on his tail were smaller. His ears were tapered rather than flared. A noticeable mongrel that made him less desirable to females overall and yet permitted him a freedom Wesker would never know.

And with that freedom and his genius he’d earned the attentions of Favored who married him and now assisted him in all things. A mongrel union that spat in the face of everyone when they produced a daughter.

Willful didn’t insult Wesker by trying to draw blood but instead gestured him to do it himself. Wesker knew this life too well, assumed he too would be chosen for this duty alongside Willful as they’d both shadowed Gleaming for years in his work and Wesker anticipated his ascension in rank and purpose. But the day came and he was charged a scavenger, the disappointment sour in his mouth at the time. Years later and he was glad of it; the lab felt constricting now, smelly and too still and too loud with the sounds of machines and electricity.

Not that Gleaming hadn’t argued in his favor, but then he died and the dead carried no weight in living duty. It was officially an accident but everyone knew otherwise, much like Ford before him.

The People once lived under a representative council, then it dwindled to the oligarchy into which Wesker was born, and now there was only one Ruler.

So scavenger Wesker became, with the special duty to learn human ways and infiltrate them. To save the People and begin for them a new era.

Wesker wanted a nap.

Blood drawn, Willful performed a cursory physical: listening to Wesker’s heart, checking his gills and eyes, and making Wesker spread his fins in full display to check his skin and scales. Then the very unpleasant palpation of private areas and drawing venom from one of Wesker’s tail spines. Just as Wesker thought they were finished Willful grabbed one of his horns and yanked, observing that it neither bent nor cracked. Wesker hissed and tried to bite him; his teeth were bigger than Willful’s. The other _aanakellriit_ wisely kept his distance as he scribbled down his immediate findings.

“Your tail still bothering you?” he asked, more for something to say than due to actual care.

Wesker couldn’t help but flick his uneven tail fin at the mention. “Not for a long time. You know that.”

Willful shrugged. “Anything I need to know about?”

“I had an unexpected shift when I was thrown from a chariot. I had to transform back again less than an hour later.”

That caught the scientist’s attention. “Did anything happen? Anything new?”

“I blacked out briefly. The second time I was in and out of consciousness for a bit.”

He watched Willful’s ink-darkened claw scribble across the page. The claw dug into the plastic-like material to write and the ink darkened the gash, making it more legible.

“Any pain?”

“A lot.”

“Bright,” Willful chided, annoyed. He was not one for vague data.

“The same as a normal transformation, but sharp and allover. I thought I was going to go into shock.”

Willful grumbled, still unhappy with the description but Wesker was not in the mood to go into great detail about being ripped apart on the inside.

“Was it as extreme when you changed back for the night?”

“No, because I didn’t. I stayed human.”

Willful regarded him, interested. “All night?”

“Yes.”

“And throughout the next day?”

“No, I had a spash-about in the Raccoon City pool before lunch.”

“Bright!” Willful snapped, eyes glowing. He was truly so easy to goad, always had been.

“Yes, all day. I was human for four tide turns.”

“You’ve never been human for that long. No one has in recent memory,” he started writing furiously, his finger flickering across the tablet. He crushed a squid he kept in his palm and dipped his claw in the mess for more ink. “Any side effects?”

“Exhaustion. I woke up in pain but I think that was from sleeping in the back of my _akhlut_ ," That was how the People knew cars, "Blurry vision by mid-day that came and went. Irritability.”

“No that’s just you…” Willful muttered.

Wesker’s gills flared and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we done? I haven’t been able to shake that exhaustion and I’ve come home to rest.”

“I’ll do the bloodwork and see if anything stands out. Otherwise fine. But come back in two tide turns, sooner if you’re still feeling off.” He shut his book and eyed what could have once been considered his childhood friend, “Did Ruler approve your return?”

“I’m almost out of essence of the Stairway of the Sun,” Wesker growled, “his approval is meaningless in this case.”

“Don’t say that when you see him next.”

Wesker scrubbed his face. “That would be now. I’m going to go report. Bad enough I have to go as I am…I look like a laborer…” he groused, referencing his lack of adornment.

“No pureblood is a laborer, the fact you were made a scavenger was shocking enough.”

“But necessary, considering.”

“I suppose. Now get out, I have work to do. The G virus is finally making progress.”

Willful had been saying that for a long time. Wesker wondered how much longer Ruler would tolerate the delays. “And the T virus?”

“Yes yes, you’ll have it. Go.”

Wesker uncoiled from the rock and swam upwards, pushing aside the heavy door and returning to the large cavern. He passed the containers humming at the bottom and couldn’t help but look.

The experiments with the essence of the Stairway of the Sun and its derivatives were both ghastly and beautiful. Warped dolphins and sharks, made strong and violent, now dead in their tubes and awaiting dissection. Three dead humans, one just as magnificently enhanced while the other two were from Chief Irons. Safely kept away as promised but also ready to make a sudden reappearance on shore should the fat human decide to step out of line.

In this Wesker couldn’t help but anticipate what possibilities G would have. Wesker’s superior intellect was without question but there was no loss of pride in admitting that Willful surpassed him in that. He swam into the passage and back down through winding tunnels into the deep.

Turning south, the passage ended and opened into the vast forum that was the center of the People’s home. Faint light filtered down upon carved stone that once was detailed and shining but now was dull and covered in growth and life, eternally breaking it down as they latched and fed and died. Soon it would fade.

Still the forum was in use, the occasional bright form of an _aanakellriit_ streaking across the floor. Past the forum the rocky shelf rose up again, a large cavern opening up back into the earth. Here did the People gather, in a sense. Engrossed in their duties they paid little mind to anything else. In the center of this grand cavern rose a pillar and Wesker followed it upward.

Another door grate blocked the entrance to a set of passages above, but this time there was no lever. Wesker wait to be acknowledged and then given permission to enter from a guard.

These passages were not ravaged by time and neglect. The stone walls were smooth and polished with carved, colorful figures telling tales and history as Wesker swam by. He once would study them, feeling them under his fingers and learning their meanings, but they were worth little now. Just aesthetics of abandoned belief.

Finery guided his way, gold and precious metals embedded in the wall, string and beads floating above and shining surface items tastefully placed in every nook and corner.

The world of the People crumbled around them but Ruler remained in his polished, shining lair.

The door to Ruler’s chamber was not a grate, but a heavy slab of metal through which no _aanakellriit_ , fish, or current could pass, lavishly decorated like everything else in his caverns. The waters moved through other gaps and openings, unknown and too small for any enemy’s use. And even these were small and few, the current sluggish and Ruler’s lair stuffy. Wesker didn’t like it.

The door slid aside, quiet and smooth, well tended and Wesker wondered if this was where all the maintenance workers were putting their focus. He entered slowly into the antechamber and the door slid shut behind him.

Electric lights lit a raised dais but the rest of the chamber was dressed in shadow, Ruler well hidden within. Even Wesker’s glowing eyes that saw into another light spectrum could not make out anything beyond. Very few had seen Ruler and Wesker long wondered what was it about this one _aanakellriit_ that inspired such fear in the People that none had replaced Ford and Gleaming upon their deaths. None questioned Ruler, because those that had ended up in another’s belly. Most likely Wielder’s, Wesker suspected.

He circled the dais and then lay upon the top, his tail coiled around its base. He lowered his spines and crest into a submissive display, and wait for acknowledgment to give his report.

 

* * *

 

Wesker ate several more squid as he made his sluggish way to his lair; it was the only bit of defiance he could get. While one could hardly call Ruler’s commands a reprimand, his annoyance was clear as he reminded Wesker that tides were shifting and there was little to show for it.

What was there to _show_? And it wasn’t like there was enough essence of the Stairway of the Sun ready yet if his side of the plan was ready even now.

It was a long swim to his home. When he’d gained a name and became one of the People he carved out for himself a small hole in abandoned ruins far back in tunnels rarely used. Other _aanakellriit_ were few but the small exploring fish plentiful and there was always a snack nearby. He’d carved more space and rooms over the years, especially as he scavenged and learned the human ways, collecting odd things as he did so. None of them bore any meaning to him and could be abandoned easily, but they were things to look at and touch during times of rest.

The door to his lair was rusty but still strong enough to hold for now. A door ripped from a sunken human ship, its porthole further barred with a metal mesh. He found the latch to the opening mechanism and sniffed it, ensuring no one else had touched it and entered his home while he was away. Only his own faint scent remained and he opened the door.

A few glowing squid trickled in after him as he entered, but he didn’t require them. He knew every inch of the hole he’d carved for himself. The door shut and he tied a string of bells and flotsam to the latch; if someone entered he would hear them. He left the antechamber, drawing a curtain shut behind him. Just looking at the main chamber of his home with its mound of soft, inviting sand made the tiredness writhing him bubble over and he sank to the floor, tired of swimming.

He slithered to the side chamber and, shoving aside a rock and a plastic lid, he placed his bagged Samurai Edge in a pile of sand. The larger empty mesh bag was placed under a stone to keep it from drifting and with that Wesker considered himself done for the day.

With no adornments to discard he went straight to the sandy mound in the main chamber. He dug his arms deep into it and then shoveled the sand upward, creating a deep pit. He then circled and wound himself into a tight coil and settled into the pit, the sand slowly drifting down and settling over him like a blanket. Warm and comfortable, Wesker sighed and finally let his body relax and his mind drift away.

It barely went far, to that point just on the edge of a doze where thoughts started to meander into nonsense, when Wesker felt the water of his lair shift as something moved. Something bigger than a fish but smaller than an adult _aanakellriit_ …

No.

“Go away,” he growled, not lifting his head and instead trying to burrow deeper into his wonderful bed.

“Father Bright,” a soft voice whispered.

“I am not dealing with you. Leave.”

“But it’s your turn,” the light voice said, softly as though that would affect his building anger, “we’re for you now, it’s your duty.”

“I am exempt.” He lifted his head, sand drifting out of his hair and through his lashes, “You have other fathers and mothers to annoy and teach you, count yourself lucky in that and leave.” He pressed his face back into the sand and hoped they’d go away, except… “How did you get in here? I would have heard the door open.”

“The grate on the porthole is loose.” Of course, they were just small enough to fit.

The pups pouted at him, their visage glowing in his sight. There were two of them, a pathetic number, male and female. The female was older and usually did most of the talking, at least in his presence.

The female pup bit her lip but said, “We are for you, we were directed to you.”

The fact that his fellows were aware of Wesker’s duty and mission and yet still would happily waste his time and dump the pups on him during his few precious tide turns at home snapped the last of his patience. Teeth gnashing, he rose from his sandy bed, spines, fins, and crest all raised in an aggression display, and hissed, “Get out!”

The pups, accustomed to such behavior from him, were hardly threatened. The male pup’s tail lashed a little, his ears wiggling in mild annoyance.

“It’s not our fault,” he muttered, “I’d rather be exploring.”

Wesker sighed and sank back to the floor, his rage burning down to the usual seething annoyance. “I wish you’d be exploring too…”

But there were too few of them for that, they were too precious to be swimming around on their own. Moreover, their future duties had yet been decided and they were still at that age where they were required to learn a little bit of every duty, allowing them not only an understanding of all that must be done, but for the adults to see where they excelled. So the pups were passed around to learn under all the People, everyone their father and mother, everyone pitching in to care for the next generation.

Wesker had been under the impression that he was exempt from this duty, considering his mission, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? If he’d been lucky enough to miss his turn while away he was making up for it now.

Abyssal rot.

“Father Bright?”

“I want to sleep. Do as you will.”

The male’s ears twitched again. “It’s not time for sleep, the squid are still here,” he said, grabbing one and waving it at Wesker for emphasis. He stared at it a moment and then took a bite out of it.

Wesker sighed and put his head down, his tail swishing patters through the sand. Pups used to travel in schools, looking out for each other as they explored and learned under their many fathers and mothers, belonging to all while their markings named their family line.

The girl was a mongrel, her speckled white patterning down the back marking her of Willful’s line, her tail a deep blue that lightened to that of the sky as it reached her trunk and neck. Though her spines were small and her ears tapered she would be pretty enough when she was grown. The boy on the other hand was pureblood, sharp spines and fins mere nubs now but would grow to attack length come adulthood. His patterning matched Wesker’s, though the bright stripe down his back and his hair was red, like his mother’s.

Wesker’s notched tail lashed.

“Even if I were to accept you, what would I teach you?” he said, folding his arms under his chin, “My duty is to infiltrate the world above. You can’t go there.”

That was the spark that lit the pups into babbling.

“The above world!”

“Do humans really eat mud?”

“Can you touch the clouds? Are they made of sky plankton?”

“Do you see the _akhluts_? How fast do they go?”

“Can humans sing? They just seem to bark a lot.”

“The grey _anikatiga_ say humans like to play and do tricks and will give out fish. Why don’t we just ask them for fish?”

Wesker flattened his ears against his skull as the two continued to chitter, click, and trill in excitement, more bouncing ideas off of each other than asking him questions. He clicked at them in warning for quiet but they ignored him. He bared his teeth.

“Quiet!” he snapped, “Stop chattering or next time Sedna is in need of having her hair combed I will volunteer one of _you_.”

The pups yelped and quieted, the male even clapping his hands over his mouth. Wesker couldn’t help but roll his eyes; weren’t they too old to believe that nonsense anymore? But whatever worked. He put his head back down, his fins relaxing.

“Father Bright,” the girl whispered.

His tail lashed again, whirls of sand rising only to drift back down over him. “What?”

“You could show us how to scavenge, that’s what Father Willful said was your duty, before.”

Wesker’s claws dug int the sand and he crushed the grains in his grip. The faded blue patterning on his tail began to brighten in his frustration.

Because she was right. Scavenging was, while not highly ranked among the People’s duties, an important skill and one most likely the male pup would have to take up someday, and the female should be familiar with it.

There was plenty of light in the day yet on the surface, and while he was, by law, capable of refusing the pups and sending them on, the others did not look kindly on it. The pups were precious and to deny them was to deny the future and in essence the People themselves.

So much for rest.

He rose up out of the sand. “We eat a proper meal then we’ll head up. I’ll teach you some basics, then we come back and I will hear nothing from either of you until morning, understand?”

They circled around him in delight, peeping and trilling in elation.

 

* * *

 

A belly full of giant squid and the remnants of the whale helped and Wesker was more willing for the return back to the surface. Murdering someone along the way would help even more but that wasn’t an option outside his fantasies.

The water lightened and warmed as they ascended. Wesker swam at a quick but easy pace but even still the pups each clung to one of his spines, partially pulled along.

“Are we almost there?” the male pup asked, trying to sound calm but unmistakably excited.

The female took hold of another spine and leaned close to her friend, her trills and clicks soft, and said, “The water will be very very bright when we get close, and then you’ll see the sun itself look like it’s touching the water but it’s not, it’s way up there.”

“And how,” Wesker growled, his hearing more than capable of picking up the not-so-quiet conversation, “would you know that, my dear?”

The two pups were suddenly silent. The female released the second spine and tried to shrink back. Wesker looped over himself, bringing his tail and the pups, particularly the female, into his focus.

“You went up there before, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice neither angry nor in sweet cajoling.

She opened her mouth as though to speak, maybe to lie, but finally closed it and just bowed her head in submissive agreement.

Wesker’s eyes glowed despite the light. “You are not permitted beyond the shelf alone.”

“Yes, Father Bright.”

“I should take you both back now, and then I would hand you,” he poked the female’s forehead, “to your sire and dam to deal with.” A child could be punished by the community or by their actual parents, but Wesker did not trust the community to not be lenient. The pups were spoiled compared to his upbringing and that of his generation, even more so compared to generations before that.

“I’m sorry, Father Bright. I was just curious, and I only poked my head up a little.”

“Did anyone see you?”

She hesitated, “No.”

Wesker narrowed his eyes. The truth was he wasn’t even angry, he didn’t care what the pups did and in his youth he and Willful had gone up to the surface on their own many times. He did not consider himself sentimental or nostalgic but thinking of those days killed the want to uphold any rules.

He bared his teeth at her in a warning but said, “We’re already halfway up, might as well go. But I hear of any more of this and I will stuff your gills with sand.”

They both bowed their heads in submission, but brightened at the threat rather than being frightened, since that was a common scolding towards the young and held no bite.

The sun was well past its zenith but still bright in the sky as Wesker maneuvered them into Raccoon Bay. He avoided the boats and popular beaches and instead headed towards the east lagoon where the miraculous herbs grew. He was swimming slow enough now, weaving through the calm and warm waters like a snake, that the pups swam alongside him.

“First thing you must know is that you never scavenge during noontime, when the sun is highest. The shadows are too small then, and shadows not only help hide you but cause tricks in humans’ eyes that they will often dismiss it should they catch a glimpse of you. Night is preferable for scavenging, but some things you can only see and get in the day when humans are most active.”

The water became shallow and muddy, their hands sinking deep as they pushed their heads up into the air. The pups gasped and inhaled, the female shaking her hair out of her face. Wesker curled his tail around them and looked about. They were in the lagoon, weeping willows draped over the water and partially shielding them should any boats pass by.

“There are no humans here, though,” the male said, disappointed. He then blinked, hand going to his mouth again. “This sounds weird!”

“Our language is not meant for air,” Wesker explained, “And be glad there’s no humans about. This is an important place, so remember it.”

“What is it?” the female asked.

Uncurling his tail, Wesker bade them wait and slithered forward, the mud easing the transition from comforting water to the bare air with it’s merciless, unfettered gravity. He wrapped at arm over the bowing trunk of the willow and pulled himself up enough for his tail to reach up and coil about the trunk. Arching his back he lifted himself up to the ground where he plucked a green plant and then lowered himself back to the water before uncoiling the tail and slipping back into the lagoon. He offered the pups the plant.

“Eat it,” he said, breaking off some leaves.

They both looked the plant over, then the female took a small nibble. The male took a bite out of it, munching loudly. Wesker chewed on the stalk while the pups savored the leaves.

“I feel…good!” the male said.

“The herbs are the reason both the People and eventually the humans settled here. As far as we know, they grow nowhere else. We use them for their healing properties.”

“But won’t the humans take them all?” the female asked, “All the Fathers and Mothers say they are greedy.”

“They are indeed, there used to be many more fish and great _anikatiga_ before they came, but don’t worry about these herbs. Come.”

Invigorated by the herbs, the pups not only followed him as they swam along the coastline, but circled him and played tag with each other, darting among the rocks and seaweed. Wesker let them.

Soon the wild shores began to be pushed back into beaches and private docks and Wesker guided the pups back out into the bay. Boats passed overhead and the pups watched with interest.

“I want to see the chariots up close,” the male said.

“You stay away from those,” Wesker snapped, giving the boy a slight cuff with his tail to show he meant it, “they are dangerous. The blades of the engines will slice you open and you’ll bleed out before the sharks can even get to you.”

At the mention of sharks the male pup shrink back, whimpering a little. Wesker ignored him.

The girl saw her friend’s sad countenance and suggested, “I want to see the _akhluts_! Can we?”

The boy’s face brightened. “Yes! The _akhluts_! Are they fast, Father Bright?”

Wesker couldn’t help the little smirk of pride as he looked at the pups over his shoulder. “They can get very fast. I haven’t just seen an _akhlut_ , I have one of my own.”

The pups gaped at him in wonder.

“How fast? Does it need to eat?”

“In a way.”

“Is it big?”

“Big enough I can stretch my whole human length in it.”

Their awe as they circled around him asking questions was strangely refreshing. The People had been fascinated by the big machines of the land that looked like racing whales with legs since the humans had first started making them, and yet none showed interest in Wesker finally being in one, driving it even. In fact, most of the People were disinterested in what things he did and found, their only interest in the fact that he could do it.

He regarded the male pup and felt…something. This was the boy’s fate, should he fail. Should Ruler’s project turn out to be their savior. But by then Wesker was sure it wouldn’t matter anymore.

“Can we see the _akhluts_?”

Wesker almost reached out to touch the male pup who looked to him with such…but stopped his arm before he could.

He was pureblood, he was above these things.

“Fine. But you will stay close and do exactly as I say or we might be spotted, and then we are all dead.”

Their eyes widened in fear, bolstered by years of tales of the vicious, cruel humans, but also excitement. They bowed their heads in submission.

There were several boardwalks near and at Raccoon City, the main one where most of the tourists congregated was avoided. The pups were too young for that and truth be told Wesker shouldn’t have brought them this close to the public shores so young. There was a smaller dock nearby, less popular because the shops were all by the main boardwalk and beaches, but enough people to make it worthwhile to look for something to grab.

Enough people parking their cars in sight of the water.

They swam hugging the shore then slid underneath the boardwalk where it joined the shore at a short trail through the park. The sun was angled dangerously here, shining underneath the boardwalk and eliminating shadows, so Wesker checked for humans before darting out to where the dock sharply turned out into the water and the shadows hid them. He coiled his tail around one of the pilings, keeping the current from carrying him past the shade, and the ups mimicked him, coiling their smaller tails around his own instead.

The heavy steps of humans walking along the boardwalk traveled don the pilings as vibrations that thundered through the water to the pup’s ears. They clung close to Wesker, their sudden fear of the humans and the loud steps above making them wary. He sank lower to the muddy earth, seaweed and bushes overhanging fro the shore helping to hide them.

“Don’t you want to see the _akhluts_? We’ll have to go farther out,” he said.

He gave them time to gaze upward passed the water to the boardwalk above. The light filtering through the slats danced on the water and made patterns on the floor, hypnotizing and promising wonders. Shadows darkened the light briefly as humans walked above, contributing to the light dance. The pups watched in fascination then, with a glance at each other, bobbed their heads in anticipated yes.

Slowly, weaving down the center of the shade of the boardwalk, the pups close with a hand each on his spines, Wesker swam farther out to where the land was visible, where they could poke their heads up and see the parking lot and the many summer cars waiting there in the broiling heat.

“We’re going to look now,” Wesker instructed, “Stay under the center of the dock so anyone looking over won’t see you, and only surface to your eyes. Anyone who sees us from the shore will think we’re seals. Move slowly so you don’t disrupt the water.”

Obediently, the pups ascended with him, waiting for him to breach the surface and wave them up before they did the same. Their little heads popped up, gazing about briefly before their focus landed on the parking lot.

The male pup rose up further and said, “Are those big things the _akhluts_?”

Wesker pulled him back down roughly from below, growing a warning. The pup at least had the mind to give him a sheepish look as he resurfaced. They watched a human approach and enter her car before driving away. The pups made long noises of awe as it sped out if view.

When Wesker finally ducked back down the pups followed.

“They’re so big! And fast!”

“I want to pilot an _akhlut_!”

Wesker couldn’t help but smirk. “We all do, even those who won’t admit it. Now, you’ve seen them, the sun is sinking, it’s time to go home.”

He was not surprised by the sad drones and whistles of sorrow that followed that announcement but it annoyed him anyway.

“You said you’d show us scavenging,” the girl argued, “I want to know how to do that.”

Wesker waved her off. “The most basic of scavenging is simply picking up what the humans discard into the water, and that’s a lot. We wait until night and then skim the shore. It’s safe enough during the day to collect from deeper waters of the bay and raid crab cages and nets.

“What about on land? Father Willful said you’d take things from the land a long time ago.”

Rolling his eyes and inwardly cursing Willful, Wesker said, “It’s not worth the essence of the Stairway of the Sun it costs us. Everything ends up in the sea eventually.”

But it was how he discovered his ability to bond with it. Young and curious, he and Willful had stolen a small supply of Gleaming’s first attempts at recreating their ancestors’ abilities and swam to the shore during the night to try it. Legged and naked they’d run up and down the beach in excitement, breathing air and waving their arms in the stark nothing of the sky, but the tide had barely moved when Willful transformed back and collapsed on the sand. Terrified, Wesker had to drag him back to the water alone, but he’d remained human until he’d stepped into the water.

He tried again himself later. He stood on that beach on human legs for hours. None had managed such a thing in generations. It was his duty to report what he’d done and so became his people’s savior and the validation of Ruler’s project.

Getting bold, the male pup moved away from Wesker and peered upward. A human was sitting on the edge of the boardwalk, feet dangling over, another smaller creature beside him.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the smaller beast.

“Looks like a dog. Stay away when humans have those, they have keener senses.”

“What about that?” the male asked again, swimming further out and pointing to something in the human’s hand. The man was eating it, whatever it was. Wesker rose slightly, getting a better look.

“A fruit. A…” he trailed off. There was no word for caramel apple in their language and ‘sweet’ did not have the same connotation in taste as candy or sugar. “A dipped treat,” he sighed, the best he could do.

“You eat it?”

“Yes.”

“I want to try one.”

“Me too!” the girl added.

Wesker glared at them both, about to refuse, then reconsidered. A dog was to normally be avoided but on occasion…

“You want to see some scavenging, fine. I will try to get you that treat. However,” he added as the children chittered in anticipation, “do not expect success, and should anything happen or I be seen you are to turn back the way we came immediately and go straight home. Stay in the deep water and close to ground.”

“Yes, Father Bright,” they both agreed.

He gestured them back down and they sunk to the floor, watching. Wesker swam to one of the pilings under the sitting human and, ever so slowly, began to pull himself up out of the water, timing is ascension with the soft waves on the shore as droplets sprinkled off him. His tail coiled around the wood and he inched upwards.

Watching the dog and human, Wesker waited. The human and his dog were relaxed, not expecting anything. So deep no human could hear it, Wesker grumbled low in his throat, a challenge if one was a whale.

The dog’s ears pricked at the sound and it leapt to its feet, barking. There was a human yelp and a soft thud as the startled man dropped his caramel apple, followed by a curse.

Both the human and Wesker’s own; he’d hoped the man would drop the apple into the water.

The human reprimanded the dog into silence and, muttering, got to his his feet.

Kick it in the water, Wesker thought, but the human like most of his kind left his waste where it lay and walked away.

Wesker waited, half out of the water, listening for any other human, sniffing the air best he could. As far as he could tell there were none nearby and so, very slowly, he pulled himself up the piling, his tail coiling up after him. He was very exposed at this point and knew it, but that apple was almost within reach…

He reached up an arm and blindly felt along the top of the dock until his fingers brushed something sticky. He curled his lip at what he knew to be human saliva but dug his claws into the apple and grabbed it. He let go of the dock and swung his trunk down until his was close to the water then uncoiled his tail, falling back in with a splash. He swam down to where the pups waited the three of them hunkered down into the mud and seaweed, listening and watching. When nothing happened Wesker handed them the caramel apple.

“And that, my children, is advanced scavenging. Now share.”

The pups gave peeps and trills of delight at the sweetness as they passed the candy apple between themselves, taking licks and nibbles as they swam back to the shoreline and then out again into the deep bay. The female pup offered the last of it to Wesker as they returned to the ocean but he declined, then broke the remaining stick in half for them to keep.

The pups kept their promise and as they returned to Wesker’s lair they did not argue as he prepared for sleep again. But when he dug out a deep pit in the sand they both darted below him. He growled at them but surrendered, lowering himself down and coiling up on top of them. They wriggled under his arms until they were comfortable and ignored his gnashing teeth. He’d enlarged the main cavern to fit two adults so they did not make him cramped, but he was not accustomed to sharing space anymore.

“Stay still and go to sleep or I’m tossing you into the storage pit,” Wesker grumbled.

The female pup yawned, her gills flaring, and the male buried himself into Wesker’s side. The sand settled on top of them and Wesker shut his eyes.


End file.
